


My Thin Ice

by RumCove



Category: Scrubs (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cold Weather, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, JD is distracted, M/M, Perry is borderline alcoholic, Slow Burn, a bit JD whumpy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28221669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumCove/pseuds/RumCove
Summary: To Doctor Cox's horror, the staff of internal medicine are being sent on a staff team building event. In Alaska. In goddamn Alaska.JD's going through a personal crisis and maybe some time away will get his mind off it. Or maybe not.Then when things take a more serious turn it's suddenly a case of life or death.Snow! Ice! Cold! A rec room! It's sort of Christmassy...
Relationships: Perry Cox/John "JD" Dorian
Comments: 16
Kudos: 69





	My Thin Ice

**Author's Note:**

> This is a standalone work apart from my other Scrubs stories and is set later than I usually write; Kim's just given birth and JD is a slightly more grown up (not going to say mature) character than I usually write him as. 
> 
> There's some stress and angst, but a bit more straight forward and lighter than some of the torturous things I put the boys through in other stories.
> 
> Quite a long one, but didn't seem worth breaking it down. I really enjoyed writing this one, I hope you enjoy reading it. I wrote a fair bit of it whilst up a mountain, drinking mulled wine by a fire.

My Thin Ice

**By RumCove**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own my OCs.

What the actual hell?

Team building?

Seriously, _team building?_

I stare back at Bob, my eyebrows already so raised that they’re in danger of becoming forever lost in my astounding curls.

“Stop looking at me like that, Perry. You know I don’t agree with hospital sponsored extra-curricular activities, this bullshit isn’t my fault.”

“And this department just _happened_ to win this one-off experience of a trip to goddamn hell with the most annoying individuals on the planet?”

“Hell would be warmer, Perry. You’re going to Alaska.”

“You’re coming too, Bob.”

“Not technically part of the department, Perry.”

“You’re an honorary member.”

“I’m counting myself as part of the Board for this.”

“Then you’re one of the bastards sending us. I mean, seriously… there couldn’t _be_ a worse time. My ex-wife has just left me – _again_ – Melissa just found out she’s done the medically impossible and become a father with her lying ex-girlfriend, Carla and Gandhi are going crazy over _their_ goddamn kid and God knows what neurotic, life-changing experience Barbie’s currently going through.”

“There was me thinking you weren’t interested in your staff’s private lives.”

“I’m _not_. I get no choice, I have to listen to all this crap. The goddamn Janitor isn’t coming, is he?”

“No. I might send Ted though. I think the exercise would do him good.”

“Oh Jesus.”

\- - - - -

So… to backtrack and recount that well-known ode, ‘The Woes of Perry’, I’m currently extremely pissed off. This is above my usual level of pissed off-edness, which generally hovers around ‘mildly angry’, sometimes edging more towards ‘furious’. It appears that the hospital board at the hellhole I work at, laughingly referred to as ‘Sacred Heart’ (ironic, when there is nowhere more soulless on the whole goddamn planet), did some sort of raffle around an ‘exciting’ team building experience. Internal Medicine ‘won’. This apparently includes the private practice doctors, to my particular horror, so it even includes Barbie. And I get fucking Gandhi since he’s married to Carla, who apparently counts as an Internal Medicine nurse. I’m pretty sure she’s weaselled her way onto this, only she really showed any enthusiasm for the damn thing. Probably as an excuse to get away from aforementioned goddamn kid.

I just did air-quotations in my head throughout that rant. I’m even angrier now.

Anyway, Barbie seemed sort of intrigued, although then looked horrified at any sort of potential for working with others, since she appears to spend her entire time trying to beat everyone else like her life depends on it. So we’ll have Barbie becoming insanely competitive over whatever the hell it is we’ll be doing. Then probably sulking when she inevitably loses.

Dolores just gave me a blank look and said “oh… cool” and sloped off miserably. I wanted to yell after him that everyone gets lied to at some point and to put his big girl pants on. Only I think he is actually pretty upset currently and Carla gets annoyed at me when I kick him when he’s sad.

Yeah, and Jordan left me and took the kids. I’m not sure if I did something wrong or her fling with the boy in the apartment down the corridor became more serious. I’m sure she’ll reappear soon enough and give me the ‘opportunity’ (air-quotes again, dammit stop that) to apologize for whatever the issue was. Even if the issue was her screwing someone else.

I feel like I live in some weird cyclical version of Dante’s Inferno and the same goddamn horrors keep coming back over and over again to torment me, the circles of hell just getting narrower and intensifying each déjà vu experience until it all blends into one monstrous coding patient. Like Groundhog Day, but less cutesy. Bill Murray would have crapped himself.

I glare at the beer in front of me. It’s 0800 and I’m drinking in a depressing airport bar, but I really could care less. I’ve checked my suitcase, which was over the weight limit. I’d just shrugged at the stewardess and told her I’d been told to pack specific requirements for a work trip and to bill my employer.

Technically this is correct. We were given a ‘fun’ (air-quotes again, dammit) joining pack ahead of this shit. Apparently it’s more entertaining (and presumably builds better teams) to not actually tell us what we’re goddamn going to do. So the pack had the flight tickets, coupons for airport taxis and breakfast (spent mine on beer) and an instruction sheet. This told us to pack what we needed for cold weather, including warm clothing, insulated walking shoes and any specific requirements we had for cold environments, including medication.

I did. I packed warm clothing, insulated walking shoes and a large volume of scotch, which is my medication for most things in life. I also packed an electric blanket because I damn well hate being cold. I live in California, for God’s sake, why the hell would I want to go to some frozen tundra and run around with the morons I’m forced to spend my working hours with?

At least I’m still being paid, I guess. This counts as work.

Fantastic.

I glare at the bar and scuff my shoe against it. Dammit.

_“Percival Cox, please report to gate twelve, your flight is ready for departure.”_

It rings out over the tannoy and I flinch. I’ve already ignored the final call for the Anchorage flight and apparently it’s getting to the stage where they’ll name and shame now. I sigh, down the beer and slope off to the gate.

\- - - - -

The other passengers all glare at me as I board. I grin back at them, inordinately pleased that I’ve pissed them all off. God, there’s something seriously wrong with me.

I sigh when I get to my allocated seat and see a familiar mess of dark, over-styled hair in the window seat. I crash heavily into the aisle seat, fasten the seat belt and glance over at him. He’s looking paler than usual and somehow listless.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of flying, Sarah. I’m not holding your hand through take off.”

“Of course I’m not.”

I resist the urge to ask why he looks like shit then and glance around the airplane. “Why’re you not sat with Gandhi and Carla? I’d have thought you three would be giggling all through the flight and playing Uno or something.”

He mutters something that sounds like “three’s a crowd” and then shrugs. “I didn’t feel like talking much and so I booked the seat that seemed to not have anyone next to it.”

Oh. Yeah. I never book, I just check in. I always become inordinately angry if I book and then discover I’m stuck next to some fat lady who’s spilling over into my seat and chattering incessantly about her children or pets or whatever shit. If it happens through fate I can at least blame that and not sit and furiously berate myself for choosing 16J or whatever.

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about talking for my sake Cecily. I plan to sleep through the next five interminable hours.”

“Sure.”

I glance at him, worried. However much I’ve been resenting and dreading this shit, I at least thought it would help cheer him up. I’d been thinking he’d snap out of the funk he’s been in at work and at least be… oh, I don’t know, excited? He’s essentially going away with his best friends and someone he (understandably) idolizes. And a lawyer. It maybe doesn’t make up for your former girlfriend claiming she had a miscarriage, devastating you, then later reappearing in your life about to give birth to your son. But I thought it might at least give him a weekend away from that shit and feel a bit better.

Not that I care about what’s going on with him.

Anyway, he’s even more withdrawn and uncharacteristically sullen than he’s been at work. I frown at him.

“You alright, Newbie?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because I was expecting you to be prattling on in excitement at the even sli-hightest possibility of someone getting sick on the flight and some hot, big-canned stewardess asking if there was a doctor on board and you could finally do what you’ve been day-dreaming of doing since you were a little girl.”

He gives me a horrified look that I briefly misunderstand and think he’s actually been offended by (and seriously, that’s probably one of the least offensive things I’ve ever said to him). I then realize that there’s a stewardess stood at my elbow and glaring at me, having evidently overheard my comment. She lifts an eyebrow and icily asks if I’d like anything from the drinks trolley before the flight, snarkily adding that the beer is _canned_ unfortunately.

I shake my head and she stalks off, still glancing at me angrily.

“You coulda warned me she was there, Newb.”

“I didn’t really notice and I didn’t realize you were about to say _that_.”

“You claiming you’ve never had that particular scenario run through your head in one of your frequent breaks from reality?”

He blushes and then shrugs. “Not in the PG-13 rated ones.”

“You rate them?”

He squirms in his seat. “Well… obviously some of them are more… um, well… less acceptable for younger audiences?”

“Alright, Phyllis, I get it.”

He stares back out of the window at the tarmac as the safety video starts playing. Bored, I prod him.

“What?”

“Pay attention. As they say, it could save your life.”

“Oh, yada yada. If the airplane crashes I’m sure the little plastic whistle will save me when I’m on fire.”

“Bit dark for you, Newbie.”

“I’m not exactly in the best place right now, although I’m sure you’ve put that down to PMS or something.”

I sigh and lean back in my seat, not hugely wanting to engage him on the subject. It’s normally entertaining to torment him, he’s being intentionally sad and a bit bleak to ruin my fun.

“Well, you’re going on a sort of vacation. To a frozen wasteland with a group of utterly annoying people, but still a break. Take your mind off it.”

“Sure, it’s that easy to forget about something like _that_.”

“Alright Newbie, stop being a sarcastic little bastard. It’s not my fault your ex did that shit to you, although I agree it was cruel.”

He glances away from the window to look at me for a moment, apparently checking I’m not about to insult him or say I understand why she did it. Satisfied I’m not being completely heartless, he shrugs. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The airplane jerks forward and he nervously scrabbles around with the headphones. I watch him for a minute.

“What’s up?”

“Yeah… I kinda lied, I’m not a great flier either.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, color me shocked, Newbie. Are you going to start praying when we get to any sort of altitude?”

“No… I’m not that bad, just I was going to listen to music on the scary bits.”

“What exactly are the ‘scary bits’, Newbie?”

“Y’know, take off and landing. The bits where the airplane feels like it’s about to explode and/or is falling out of the sky.”

“So… you enjoy the bit in the middle where it’s boring and nothing happens? Where we just cruise along for hours in a tube full of other annoying people?”

“I _prefer_ that bit, I wouldn’t say I enjoy it.”

“You’re really weird, Newbie.”

\- - - - -

There’s no music that I want to listen to. Oh God. Oh God.

I poke the screen slightly desperately, hearing the guy in front grunt as I essentially jab him in the back of the head trying to get the slightly iffy touch screen to work.

“Sorry,” I mutter to him, hearing Doctor Cox let out an irritated huff of breath next to me.

“What’s the problem there, Teresa?”

“Can’t find anything I want to listen to.”

Oh God, the stupid flying death trap is starting to speed up on the runway, no longer aimlessly cruising around waiting for it’s opportunity to _really_ let lose and hurtle so fast we inexplicably start to fly through the air. God, who came up with the idea of this? ‘Let’s take a tube, fill it with squishy delicate people and then propel it so incredibly fast that it starts to fly.’ I mean, _why_? If it flapped it’s big metal wings or something then I’d somehow feel more comforted, as at least I’d understand how that worked, I’ve never seen a bird just plummet out of the sky and explode on impact like a little feathery waterbomb.

I briefly have a weird mental image of an airplane with feathered wings flapping around in the sky, the sound of people throwing up inside.

Oh, yeah. That’d definitely cause turbulence.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sudden increase in force as the airplane suddenly starts it’s main engines, flattening me back against my seat. I squeak slightly, trying to reach forward to the touch screen, but apparently lacking the core muscles required to actually get to it. I need to do more than just cardio, clearly.

I wish I had Turk’s astronomical level of faith in God. I could at least be clutching a cross or something if I did. I’m not entirely sure I believe in God, but I’m relatively certain that if He does exist then He doesn’t bother Himself with airplanes carrying nervous doctors. He’s probably too busy trying to sort out the mess we made with world politics or something.

I screw my eyes shut. Dammit. I think God isn’t that interested in what’s going on with me right now, but apparently Lucifer is, since he decided to allocate Doctor Cox the seat right next to me. So he can now see how embarrassingly scared of flying I am, as well as all my other faults he apparently sees with some sort of microscopic focus.

I’m not usually this bad, but I’m stressed right now and so it seems to be making it worse. It’s not helped by the niggling constant commentary at the back of my head that if I die in a horrible, flame-filled explosion then it’ll also leave my son without a father. It’s an unpleasant, dragging sense of responsibility that seems to be squatting malignantly in my brain. Is that going to be there my whole life now? I usually don’t think I’m responsible enough to look after _myself_ , let alone someone else.

I’m jerked out of my worried thoughts by someone gently placing their hand over mine, where it’s gripped, white-knuckled, on the arm rest. I briefly think that maybe the stewardess that Doctor Cox offended might have noticed my nerves and come over. It’s a bit of a stretch, although something my imagination is definitely up for thinking of – Doctor Cox wasn’t wrong about that particular fantasy and she was _smoking hot_ – but I’m even more surprised when I open my eyes to see that it’s a hand I’m very familiar with; large, masculine and reassuring. A hand I’ve seen doing hundreds of complicated medical procedures, writing detailed notes about treatments and in one particularly memorable incident come hurtling into my face after my own father exited this world and laid that gruelling sense of responsibility he must have also felt to a final rest.

I glance up at his face, unsurprised to see he’s determinedly looking forwards and ignoring the little gesture of comfort that he’s showing me. I imagine if I ever bring this up he’ll claim he was just using the hand rest that I was hogging with my sweaty palms.

His eyes flicker to meet my gaze briefly and his hand squeezes mine infinitesimally before he goes back to ignoring me again.

I stare out of the window, watching the tarmac flashing past. There’s a jerk as the wheels leave the ground as – oh God oh God oh God – we start to accelerate up into the air. I hunker down slightly in the seat, concentrating on not squeaking again and embarrassing myself any further. The last thing I want is Doctor Cox telling everyone I’m a squeaky flier.

The airplane eventually levels out after ten minutes or so of horrible vertical acceleration, my ears popping and Doctor Cox’s hand remaining over mine, warm and dry and comforting. I breathe more freely and Doctor Cox removes his hand from mine as if it’d never been there. I glance at him.

“Thanks.”

“Didn’t do anything, Newbie.”

Yeah, that’s not surprising.

\- - - - -

After about a half hour of Newbie trying to decide on what to watch he seems to select some sitcom at random and then almost immediately fall asleep, curled on his side as much as possible in the uncomfortable seat. He’s leant it back the inch or so it allowed him to and is slowly sliding down it as the flight progresses.

I’ve ordered a scotch from the stewardess who hates me (and was clearly judging me for drinking hard liquor at 1100, but again, I really could care less) and am reading some thriller novel that I think I started about a year ago. I found baby puke on one of the pages so hell, it could have been even longer ago than that.

I drop the slightly crusty book into my lap and glance out the window at the clouds scudding past. The light’s already turning wintery, sharp but oddly fragile, filtering in and illuminating Newbie’s sleeping face. The worried, unhappy expression has finally cleared and he’s looking relaxed and young again, not the wearier, sadder, more cynical version that seems to have emerged like a phoenix from the wreckage of the whole Kim situation.

I realise I’ve been staring at him for some time and drag my gaze away and pick the novel up again.

Scared of flying. What a girl.

\- - - - -

“Excuse me, sir, can you please right your seat? We’re prepping for landing.”

I narrow my eyes at the stewardess, blocking her arm reaching over to shake Newbie awake. “Does the additional inch created by him righting his seat somehow make this goddamn tin can safer? He’s not a great flier, can’t you just leave him to sleep?”

She frowns at me. “It’s protocol, sir. All seats should be in the upright position and tray tables stowed for landing.”

God, it’s like Bob and his stickling for enforcing policy. I sigh and shake Newbie’s shoulder, making him grunt softly.

“Hey Daisy. You need to crank the ole seat back up because apparently we’ll all die horribly if you don’t make that ever-so-impo-hor-hortant additional half inch of space for the asshole behind you.”

The asshole behind him is Sweaty Teddy, who’s been trying to engage me in conversation for most of the flight. I’ve been ignoring him, getting absorbed by the novel I’ve been reading and occasionally glancing across at Newbie sleeping in the cold sunlight, the harsh beams flickering over his pale skin as he dozes.

“Heyyy.”

I ignore him, watching Newbie tiredly blink his eyes open and register me. He obeys automatically, sliding the seat forward and sleepily rubbing at his eyes. He stares at the screen, confused that the sitcom season he’s been watching has run out.

“H’ve I been asleep the whole flight?” he asks me hoarsely.

“Yeah, Newb. Best five hours I’ve ever spent in your company.”

He snorts quietly and pulls the headphones off, glancing at me hopefully as the airplane jerks and begins the descent. I frown at him. Little bastard is apparently hoping that I’ll hold his goddamn hand again for the landing.

“Put some music on, Newbie.”

He gives me a sad look and then does as he’s told.

\- - - - -

It is damn _cold_.

Like I said, I hate the goddamn cold. Newbie has immediately bundled himself into some enormous coat and then pulled a ridiculous hat on, even while he’s still on the airplane. I lift an eyebrow at him.

“Chilly, Princess?”

He shrugs. “Well, it’s gonna be cold, right?”

“What’s with the hat, Newbie?”

He shrugs again. “What are you wearing?”

“Nothing with goddamn _earflaps_ , you can bet your damn bottom dollar on that, Jessica.”

He looks ridiculous, like he’s about to go hunting deer in the Canadian wilderness or something. I pull on a beanie and a padded jacket, elbowing him in the ribs as I do so. I hear him grumble something to himself as he pulls his hand luggage down from the overhead locker.

I notice him pass Terrified Theodore his hand luggage down and give him an encouraging smile. I try to swallow down the weird spike of emotion this causes and tell myself I’m just pleased he’s acting a bit more like himself again. That’s all. This damn nightmare might at least be helping him feel less like shit.

That’s _all_.

\- - - - -

Even wearing my warmest thermals and the most insulated coat I could buy in California, this is _cold_. The blast of icy air hits me as I step off the plane and I pull the ear flaps of my hat closer around my face.

We’re the last off the plane because – of course – Doctor Cox just glared at everyone and stood with his arms crossed, occasionally touching his nose in an attempt to intimidate all the other passengers to stop and let him through. As they weren’t medical residents they all just ignored him and the stewardess he annoyed pointedly stood in front of him so he couldn’t move around her.

I’m not really sure why I waited in solidarity with him, all that happened was he shoved his hand luggage into my arms (and my stomach and _owie_ that was unnecessary) and stalked off as soon as he was able to. The stewardess gave me a sympathetic look and I think she thinks I’m his PA or something.

“Dude, are you carrying Cox’s luggage?”

Turk has wound his way over to me in the baggage claim area, grinning broadly. I glance down at the two holdalls I’ve got in my hands.

“Yeah.”

“You are _such_ a pushover, man. Here, give it to me, I’ll give it back to that jackass. He should leave you alone, you got enough on your mind without becoming his personal baggage handler.”

Ugh. Like I needed reminding of that. I sigh and pass Doctor Cox’s hand luggage to Turk, who grimaces and then strides off over in the direction of the far wall, where Doctor Cox is leaning against the wall and glaring at the conveyor belt like it’s personally offended him.

To be fair, Doctor Cox isn’t exactly having the easiest time of it either. It’s well known in the hospital that Jordan’s left him again, just everyone’s too terrified of him to ask him anything about it or offer any sympathy. Apart from Carla, of course, but she’s preoccupied with Izzy and likely can’t deal with his drama right now either.

I wander over to Ted, who’s staring at the conveyor belt morosely.

“Hi Ted.”

“Hey.” He gives me a mournful look. “My luggage is always off the belt last.”

I glance at the belt, which has just jerked and started to trundle along arthritically. “Well, maybe it’ll be different on this flight. We’re travelling for work, right? Maybe we’ll get first class treatment.”

Ted continues to stare despondently at the belt. “I don’t even have checked luggage…”

I stare at him in concern for a moment and then edge away carefully.

\- - - - -

I drag my ridiculously heavy (scotch filled) suitcase along the ground behind me, feeling the wheels already starting to protest at the weight and the uneven ground. I try to stop myself from staring at Newbie’s case and fail.

“Is that a _unicorn_ , Patricia?”

“Leave him alone.”

Ah, Gandhi, even more self-righteous and outraged at my treatment of Newbie than ever. I roll my eyes at him, grimacing. Newbie would find it damn weird – and probably more upsetting – if I was acting all sensitive around him. And I’m pretty sure it is a goddamn unicorn as a luggage tag.

Apart from the ridiculous tag, I’m actually surprised his case is pretty ordinary otherwise and also quite small. I would assume he travels with an entire hair salon, but apparently has managed to resist the urge to bring enough mousse to supply a group of travelling eccentric hairdressers. Gandhi has shrugged an arm over Newbie’s shoulders in a weirdly defensive way and I feel a twinge of… _something_ in my stomach that I rapidly swallow down. I need to drown the damn thing in scotch, like all the rest of my emotions.

Newbie’s giving me an odd look in response, his eyes looking huge framed by the stupid hat, Gandhi’s arm slung over his shoulder making him slouch slightly due to their differences in height. I’ve no idea what I’m supposed to read into that expression, so just sneer at him slightly.

“Where’re we supposed to go from here, Sharon?”

“The welcome pack says that there’ll be a minibus at the taxi rank with a sign for Sacred Heart in the window.”

“Fantastic.”

“Seriously dude, lay off him. It’s not his fault you’re here, but you should at least try to enjoy yourself.”

Jesus Christ, what is _with_ Gandhi? I know he’s real fond of Petunia and all, but if he’s that bothered then why isn’t he actually helping Newbie out, rather than being focused on his own kid and apparently taking all of his ire out on me? I notice Newbie give him a sidelong glance that makes me think he’s maybe thinking something similar.

“I’m not laying _on_ him, Gandhi.“

Oh, Newbie just blushed; what exactly is going through his fluffy little brain right now? I repress the sudden urge to make some weird innuendo just to see how he reacts and try to ignore how pink he’s gone, continuing with: “Just he’s the kinda gal who enjoys reading instructions and making sure he’s oh so-ho-ho aware of exactly where he should be at all times. Playing to his strengths and all.”

I think I just complimented Newbie. Did I? Damn. I need to stop watching him sleep in wintry light, it apparently makes me unnecessarily lenient on him. It’s because he looks so goddamn young and innocent like that, there’s nothing more to it than that.

Whatever caused that, it’s made Newbie shrug off Gandhi’s slightly suffocating arm around his shoulders and grin broadly at me. There’s a corresponding warmth in my stomach that I carefully ignore and look over towards the taxi rank.

“Oh, look at that Newberoo. There’s the fun bus.”

The minibus looks incredibly depressing, which somehow makes me feel more cheerful. It looks tired and somehow dirty, even though it’s been ‘washed’ by multiple coverings of snow. The driver looks about as miserable as I constantly feel internally, a short blond guy leaning against the bus door and glowering at us all. He’s wearing a red and black check padded jacket and has his hands shoved in his pockets against the cold, the hood pulled up around his fair hair. He’s watching us approach, clearly identifying his customers and apparently not overly concerned about being welcoming or even acknowledging us.

Hey, I _like_ this guy.

“Hey, you our ride?” I ask him. He glances over like he’s only just noticed us and then shrugs half-heartedly.

“You the doctors?”

“Yeah. Got these _magic_ hands, brother.” Gandhi is practically peacocking at being recognized as a surgeon. I roll my eyes and catch the blond guy doing the same thing.

“Cool. Whatever. Get on the bus.”

“Is there anywhere for luggage?”

The blond guy absently kicks at the trailer that’s hitched behind the bus. “Yeah, shove it in there.”

“Are you not going to-?”

The blond guy interrupts Gandhi: “Nope. Been waiting here ages, I’m getting in the cab. Hurry the fuck _up_ and get in, it’s fucking cold in Alaska if you didn’t notice.”

What exactly did Gandhi think, that this guy would load the luggage? Pretty sure my damn case is heavier than he is.

He’s scrambled into the driver’s seat and started the engine up, pressing his hands against the heater and apparently trying to get some feeling back into them. Newbie surprisingly darts over to the trailer to throw his be-unicorned case in and then gets into the passenger seat next to the blond guy. Apparently he’s feeling the cold too.

I heave my luggage into the trailer (it’s fine, it’s a good workout, I don’t have an alcohol problem, dammit, nobody better smash any of the scotches or I won’t cope) and slide open the minibus door angrily. I drag myself in and collapse into a seat and glower at everyone else who enters, daring them to sit next to me.

“Oh, _hi_ Doctor Cox.”

Oh God. Oh no. In all that is holy, oh no, oh Jesus, oh _why_?

Barbie crashes down into the seat next to me and beams, her face framed by the hood of her pink parka pulled up around her hair. I hear Newbie snort quietly to himself and mutter something before I see the blond guy glance in the rear view mirror to watch.

“Oh hey Doctor Cox, how are you doing, how was the flight, I hate flying, I always get, like, _so_ nauseous and then I hafta eat a load of crackers to stop it and I don’t know about you but crackers are so moreish and they really make me gain weight – not that I care, but every time I see my Mom she likes to tell me how _healthy_ I’m looking and by that she means fat, you know, and not that I care about that but it _hurts_ when she says that, you know? Anyway, Keith says he likes it when there’s a bit more junk in the trunk and-“

Oh God, oh _why why why why,_ Satan, why?

\- - - - -

I watch Elliot prattle at Doctor Cox for a little while and then glance across at the driver, who’s looking amused and apparently focusing on reversing the bus. I wait until we’re on the open road (I mean, reversing is hard right, I don’t want to distract him, particularly when it’s icy) and then ask him how long it’ll take to get there. He glances at me and grins slightly.

“Get where?”

I shrug and rub my hands together to try and warm them back up. He seems to notice and flicks the heater on higher.

“Hey, blondie? We’re freezing back here, mind sharing that good stuff with the rest of us?”

“Sorry, this is the basic package minibus. If you guys wanted heating all through and the in-seat entertainment then you should have upgraded to platinum.”

Doctor Cox looks begrudgingly impressed and I try not to roll my eyes. Awesome, so apparently the way you make him like you is to be as much of a dick as he is.

“We didn’t choose the package,” I tell him. “And I meant… well, get to wherever we’re going. Where _are_ we going?”

“Place called Camp Grayview.”

“Camp Grayview? That sounds like something out of a video game. Or a war movie.”

“Yeah. Looks more like something from an apocalyptic movie. Or one where everyone freezes to death, God knows what kind of movie that’d be…”

“So… I’m getting some hints that it’s cold here.”

He grins. “Understatement. But it’s actually not too bad, the cabins all have fires and insulation, they’re actually pretty cosy. Just… you know, the cold gets to you, day after day. Particularly in winter, geez. You know what I’d give for a beach holiday? You guys are from Cali, right?”

I give him a half-hearted grin in response. “Yeah, but it’s actually kinda cold there right now. Not like _this_ , but not hot. So… how long?”

“About a half hour.”

I glance out the window at the snow sparkling softly in the harsh light. The view is like something from a geography documentary, barren and incredibly… natural. There’s no impact of humans here, just nature doing what nature does. It’s gorgeous and stunning and cruel. Nothing fake here, no pretences, no lies, no self-delusion. Just the astounding fact of the wilderness and humanity. Survival and honesty. It makes the malls and highways of California look flimsy and superficial, a façade painted over something genuine.

After watching for a few minutes I softly murmur: “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is. Still freezes your balls off though.”

\- - - - -

I pull my beanie down over my curls more thoroughly and sigh. Goddamn people all milling around; I’ve got my damn case out of the trailer and they’re all just chattering and being incessantly annoying. Newbie is talking to the damn driver still, which is pissing me off more.

The girl at the camp administration office is at least more colorful than the aforementioned annoying driver. I give her an uneasy look. Her hair is dyed an array of rainbow colors in a punkish mohawk and she has a variety of pink jewelry in her ears and nose. She gives me a slightly unhinged grin in response to my concerned glance.

“Hi! Are you from Sacred Heart?”

“Yeah…” I hedge carefully.

“Oh, I was kinda hoping that, the Sacred Heart party are our only group for the weekend so I’d be worried if you weren’t… so, there’s ten of you?”

“I guess.”

I glance back; I’d honestly not counted. There’s me, Newbie, Carla, Gandhi, Barbie, Ken, Sweaty Teddy and three residents that I’ve not bothered to learn the names of. I look back at the girl, who’s jotting something down on a piece of paper with a chewed pencil, absently tugging at a lock of multicolored hair as she does so.

“Yeah, ten of us.”

“Cool, you’ve all got a cabin each in the main compound and-“

“ _Main_ compound? Are there some more isolated ones? How do I get one of them?”

I could just drink scotch and stare at the fire without anyone interrupting me or asking how I’m feeling or trying to get me to _talk_. The girl smirks and glances up at me with amused green eyes.

“They’re pretty remote. You’re not really allowed, they’re more for the winter courses and-“

“Winter courses? You guys cater for survivalists or something?”

The girl looks shifty. “Like… military stuff. And scientist training for Arctic expeditions. And…”

“And preppers?”

She shrugs. “Something like that. I don’t ask.”

She walks out from behind the desk and reads out who’s in which cabin. I don’t hugely register anything apart from my being in cabin 1 ( _obviously_ ) and Newbie being in 6. This is partly because I don’t really care where anyone else is, but mainly because I’m distracted by her ridiculous knee-high Cat in the Hat boots. She apparently notices this, as she grins at me and then announces in a voice pitched to carry:

“I know it is wet and the sun is not sunny, but we can have lots of good fun that is funny! Please put your luggage in your rooms and refresh yourself, the briefing for your weekend will start at three in the rec room just across from here.”

She winks at me and returns to sitting behind the desk. I feel like I’ve lost a game I didn’t even known I was playing and haul my case off to my cabin.

\- - - - -

After I deposit my case in my cabin (which is actually pretty cool, it has a little Norwegian-style bed and coverlet) and instruct the horse-with-a-sword to protect all my worldly goods, I traipse back outside of cabin 6. I’m a good five minute trudge through the snow to the main area and I’m one of the closer ones. I heard Doctor Cox trying to get a cabin away from everyone else and it sounds like there’s a load outside of the main compound as well. I’m guessing you need a Zamboni or something to get to them-

Actually, Zambonis just do ice, right? What are those things people drive in snow? Not sleds…

Oh. Yeah. A snowmobile.

I think my brain’s getting too cold and slowing down.

I’m assuming there’s some snowmobiles here. Maybe they’ll be teaching us to drive them? That might actually be quite cool, although I’m not sure how it’ll build us as a team. Unless we take turns or something.

I pull my gloves on as I walk past Carla’s cabin and smirk. Apparently the camp didn’t get the memo that Turk and Carla are married and put them in separate cabins. Both half-heartedly protested and then went off to each cabin. Turk cheerfully told me that he was fully expecting to “share body heat” with Carla (whilst winking at me – I mean he winked at me when he said that, not that he was planning on doing the dirty with Carla whilst winking at me, that’d be _incredibly_ weird) and then being able to spread out on his own bed without her snoring.

I found that a bit odd, to be honest. What I miss about being in a relationship (apart from the sex, _obviously dog_ ) is the snuggling. Sleeping with someone else. It’s nice, it’s reassuring. It means you don’t usually wake up at 2 in the morning and stare at the ceiling, trying to choke down the loneliness and stress. And now the constant terror that I’ll be a genuinely awful father.

Don’t think about that, don’t think about that…

I walk into the rec room. The driver is sat in there, still bundled in his coat although he’s pulled the hood down and has sat as close to the fire as he can without apparently combusting. He seems to be reading ‘The Great Gatsby’. The girl with the rainbow hair is sat on the floor against the armchair he’s in, fiddling with a cell phone. I eavesdrop, mainly to try to drive away any temptation to continue my previous line of thought.

“Move your boots away from the fire, you’ll melt them.” I hear him say to her as I walk over. She stares back at him, wide-eyed.

“My boots won’t _melt_. They’re made of vegan leather.”

He snorts. “Vegan leather means plastic, you idiot. If they end up soldered onto your skinny jeans then don’t come to me to get them off.”

“My boots _will not_ melt,” she mutters, but moves so they’re out of immediate danger. “Whatcha reading?”

“Gatsby.”

“You read that recently.”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure I’ve read everything else in this crummy rec. And I like Gatsby.”

“Why don’t you just download a book onto your cell like a _normal_ person?”

“Because I don’t like that, you annoyance. If being a normal person means being welded to your cell like your boots are going to be melted onto your legs then I don’t want to be normal.”

“They’re not melting…”

“Yeah, now you’ve moved.”

“Oh, look, one of them’s come in.”

I’ve been spotted and so wave at them both. “Hey.”

“Hi!” The girl grins at me and then frowns. “Do you think my boots are going to melt?”

I glance at them. “I wouldn’t risk it, they look pretty… flammable.”

“They’re fun and pretty.”

“And highly incendiary, just like you,” the guy mutters, still reading.

“He said, ‘Do I like this? Oh no! I do not!’ You’d like them if they had Gatsby and Carraway on.”

The guy drops the book and glances at her. “You just hinted to our guest that you’re capable of reading anything other than childrens’ literature. Quickly, cover and quote ‘Green Eggs and Ham’ at him.”

She smirks at him. “Now who’s looking immature, Greg?” She looks over at me. “Hey, sorry, you’re a bit early. I’ll go get the snacks and drinks ready.”

“Do you need help? Don’t go on my account.” I protest, but she’s already sprung surprisingly lithely onto her feet for someone wearing four inch heels shaped like striped hats and has beelined off. I look back at the driver. “Sorry. Just there wasn’t much to do in the cabin, I didn’t mean to make her leave.”

He shrugs. “There’s not much to do here either and I wouldn’t worry. She needed to bring the refreshments at some point and she was bored, as demonstrated by her annoying me.”

I look around the room. “Well… there’s foosball. And ping pong. And a load of books that you’ve apparently already read.”

“Yeah, the nights are long and oh-so dull here. There’s a video game system too, but don’t expect an X Box or anything, it’s a Mega Drive, I’ve no idea how it’s still functioning.”

“Oh my _God_! Please say it has Sonic?”

He grins at me. “And 2 and 3. And Sonic and Knuckles.”

I charge over to the battered-looking TV in the corner, throw myself onto the beanbag there and power it on, before looking back over my shoulder:

“You want to play second controller?”

“Totally. Tails the Fox has the same complicated emotional depths as Nick Carraway, after all.”

\- - - - -

A bag of chips hits me in the face as I stare fixedly at the screen. “Hey. Refreshments.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, not looking away from Green Hill Zone. The girl huffs to herself, watching us play for a moment before plaintively demanding: “Why aren’t you playing as Knuckles? She’s the best. She can fly _and_ punch things.”

“Knuckles is a dude.” I point out. The girl scoffs.

“Nope. She’s pink. She’s got dreads and she’s subverting the patriarchy by being badass.”

“Knuckles is actually a guy, canonically.” The driver confirms. Oh good, I’ve got support, I was worried I’d been wrong about that my whole life for a moment.

“Oh. It’d be better if she was a girl. Representation and challenging gender stereotypes and all. I’m going to keep thinking of her like that.”

The girl wanders off and I lift my eyebrows. “Is she always like that?”

“Oh, absolutely… talking of, that guy’s just come in. Is _he_ always like that?”

I peer back at the door to see that Doctor Cox has entered the room. He’s not had a bag of chips thrown in his face, presumably because even the marginally insane can sense that’d be a bad idea. He’s glaring at us.

“Doctor Cox? Yeah, he’s always angry.”

“Why do you call him _Doctor Cox_? That seems pretty formal.”

I shrug. “Because if I call him Perry he tries to murder me.”

“That’s not weird at all. And I didn’t mean angry, I meant…. Uh, well, let me know if I’m talking out of turn here, but does he always look psychopathic if anyone else talks to you?”

_What?_ I frown at him. “No, he looks like that all the time.”

“I mean, I know there was the mix up with the cabins and everything, but I wouldn’t have thought that’d put him in such a bad mood to be separated from-”

My frown deepens. “Mix up?”

“Yeah, you know, the whole married couple but two cabins thing? We’re not puritanical or anything, just someone didn’t pick up on it, we’re sorry about any hurt, it’s honestly not close minded or anything, I know how it could appear.“

“Oh, no, that’s my buddy Turk and his wife Carla. Doctor Cox isn’t married. Or, er, he was, but… anyway, that was Turk and Carla. They’re chill with it. Seem quite happy about it, actually.”

The guy has been staring at me in surprise for a while and then suddenly blushes and looks away. “Oh. Sorry. Er. I just assumed… um, sorry, ignore me. Oh, shit, quickly, jump on that wasp.”

\- - - - -

Newbie is snuggled up on a beanbag with the driver playing some videogame, since obviously having a child doesn’t stop you being an enormous child yourself. I glare at them for a moment and notice the guy give me a suspicious look and mutter something to Newb, who looks as utterly clueless as is standard with him. The blond guy blushes suddenly and looks away from us both. I feel my frown deepening and drag my gaze away from the bashful couple.

The girl is putting out soft drinks on a table. I walk over and inspect them. “Got anything a bit stronger?”

“Uh, not for the briefing. There is a bar here though, we’ll open it in the evening.”

Oh, just in the evening. How depressing. “It fully stocked, Thing One?”

She beams and I realise she probably took that was a compliment. “Yep, we sell an _awful_ lot of hard liquor. It’s the cold and… well, that adults don’t generally like being made to team build in a frozen tundra.”

“Well, that’s fair enough.”

“Shall I keep a bottle of something to the side for you? I’m the bar tender.”

“Johnnie Walker black if you have it. And you’re the bar keep and the receptionist and the… what, caterer?”

“I mean, catering is quite rich for just dishing out chips and occasionally making toasted cheese. I’m also the maid and deal with most of the legal procedures. And the driver also moonlights as a janitor, caretaker, financial officer and official complainer. And possibly literary reviewer. And we both maintain the website and sales.”

I blink at her. “Why the hell would you come and live in a freezing wasteland and do about fifteen jobs? It sounds like an _Overlook_ situation if I ever heard one, make sure Blondie there doesn’t get hold of a fire axe.”

She shrugs. “It’s pretty here.”

“Right, are you on the run or something? Did you offend the fashion police one time too many?”

She looks around shiftily, gives me a crazy grin and then walks off, leaving me feeling incredibly unsettled. I assuage it by going over to where Priscilla and her gal pal are playing games and sit heavily on the beanbag, nearly propelling Blondie off. He gives me an annoyed look and mutters “you see what I mean?” to Newbie, then rolls his eyes and scoffs “forget it” when Newbie continues to look his standard level of baffled.

“So, Thing One tells me that you and she basically run this place,” I address Blondie. He looks back at me, amused.

“Did you call her that? She’ll have been delighted.”

“I’ll call you the damn killjoy fish in a minute.”

“Pretty accurate. And yeah, we do most of the day to day stuff. But the owner leads all the activities, he’s Darren. He’ll be along soon to lead the briefing and be disapproving of me playing video games with the clients.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine you or Kinky Boots being the most compelling team leaders.” I lean slightly against JD’s shoulder, who’s ignoring us completely and making a blue hedgehog jump around in some weird bright green environment. He leans back against me, matching my pressure, and continues to play, probably not actually recognizing what he’s doing.

“No, we wouldn’t lead the activities… probably not the right temperaments.” Blondie’s eyes seem to be lingering on where I’ve leant against Newb, a slightly confused expression on his face, before he manages to drag his gaze away and look back at me. “We leave that to Darren. Neither of us have the prerequisite levels of enthusiasm.”

“Oh God. He’s _enthusiastic_?”

Blondie nods solemnly. “Terminally so.”

Oh, goddamn it.

\- - - - -

I can practically _feel_ the level of rage rolling off Doctor Cox right now. I’m surprised that the activity leader (“call me Darren!”) hasn’t sensed it, but he seems like anything even mildly negative would bounce off him. He’s the anti-Ted.

Doctor Cox is, I think, absolutely disgusted with what we’re going to be doing.

I mean, I think a treasure hunt sounds quite fun, but he clearly doesn’t. I’m not sure what he was expecting or would have been pleased by. Probably some sort of alcohol-fuelled ‘Hunger Games’ style deathmatch in the snow.

May the odds be forever in your favor.

Darren is beaming at us all. I give him a weak smile in response, whilst Carla claps her hands excitedly and announces to Turk that “we’re going to kick everyone’s ass, baby”. I’m pretty sure that’s not accurate, they managed to lose Izzy for fifteen minutes last week.

“A _treasure hunt_?” The scorn is practically dripping from Doctor Cox’s tone, but makes no impact on Darren.

“Yes, a _treasure hunt_.”

“As in, the sort of shit that my son did at his birthday party last year? After beating the shit out of a pinata, which, incidentally, would be a preferable activity.”

“Oh, much more developed than a child’s activity, I can assure you.” Darren looks around for support and then appears to notice the Cat in the Hat boots for the first time and looks utterly exasperated.

“How? Oh, I read about one using GPS caches the other week, is it something like that?” Elliot asks. Darren seems to regain his composure and smiles at her.

“Yes, just like that. GPS and there’s hidden bonuses you can use to help out, including a snowmobile and even skis. I can assure you, this is not a child’s game.”

He gives Doctor Cox a slightly annoyed glance. Apparently he can even make the supremely positive feel disenchanted if he tries hard enough.

“Now, there’ll be five teams of pairs. What I’d suggest we do is draw numbers out of a hat so that people aren’t necessarily with the same people who they’d socialise with normally, which makes it so much more fun-“

“Absolutely _nahwt_ happening, Captain Positive.”

“Yeah, we want to choose!” Elliot adds, looking furious at the idea of being parted from Keith, who’s stood next to her like the big stupid sex doll that he is.

“Definitely!” Carla chimes in. “You’ve already separated me and my man at night, don’t do that during the day too.”

Turk gives me a commiserating look and I feel my stomach drop. He’s not going to pick me with Carla in that mood and I obviously know he’s not going to upset her right now, particularly post-baby. Dammit. I’m having horrendous flashbacks to childhood baseball games, where I was inevitably chosen last, even after Tommy Dwyer who was asthmatic and practically spherical. I was kinda hoping to avoid that, it’s not a reminder I want to think about right now. I also really don’t need two days of Ted’s constant, miserable presence bringing me down. I know it’s not intentional, but he’s like a joy vacuum. Also, he’ll somehow make even a snowmobile less fun.

I mean, it can’t be crazy fun to be Ted or anything and I do have sympathy. I just don’t want to experience it myself.

Darren sighs. “Fine. It’s less diverse this way, but I certainly don’t want to spoil anyone’s weekend, particularly since we made the error with the cabin for Doctor and Mrs Turk.” He throws the girl an annoyed glance at this point, who looks serenely unconcerned. “Alright, so you need to team up into pairs. Who’s going to go firs-“

“Newb, you’re with me.”

We all stare at Doctor Cox in shock, particularly me.

Oh my God, I’ve been picked _first_. And not by Turk, by _him_. Oh my God, oh my God, it’s like all those jocks beating me up all through my childhood have suddenly admitted they think I’m cool and were just jealous of my hair.

Doctor Cox looks a bit shifty and then shrugs. “What? Carla’ll absolutely remove my balls if I separate her from her favorite bowling ball and so he’s the best of a bad bunch. I figure I can use the hot air from his incessant chatter as a useful alternative to a snow blower.”

He _so_ thinks I’m cool and is jealous of my hair.

\- - - - -

Well, I’m regretting that. Everyone is staring at me like I’ve grown an additional head. Apart from Newbie, who’s staring at me like the captain of the football team has finally taken notice of his cute little cheerleader outfit.

I just felt for the kid, is all. Gandhi clearly wasn’t going to come through for him and if he’d spent the next few days in the company of Theodore the Clinically Sad then we’d probably have found him frozen outside in a hedge maze, a la Jack Torrence. A Newbsicle.

I’m thinking about The Shining too much, that’s not healthy when you’re isolated in a cold environment with a load of very annoying people.

Killjoy Fish is also giving me a knowing look that I’m really not liking. Thing One is looking politely confused by the activities and is trying to surreptitiously eat all of the salt and vinegar chips. Captain Terrific is apparently unfazed by the general level of shock and nods. “Yes, and who’s next?”

We pair up as expected otherwise; two of the residents apparently band together in a sneak pincer tactic, leaving the one who shall now forever be ‘Unluckiest Resident’ with Sweaty Teddy. Barbie and Ken and Carla and Gandhi pair up and then we all look at General Positivity.

“So, your first task is a quick one, as we’re losing light. It’s mainly to accustomize yourselves to the equipment. One of you will have a GPS system and the other will be driving a snowmobile. Your navigator will need to guide the driver to the first cache, which will have a map inside so you can start preparing for tomorrow’s activities.”

“Guess which role you’re fulfilling, Isabelle Eberhardt.” I mutter to Newbie, who groans quietly.

“When you get to the cache you swap roles.” – Newbie squeaks happily – “So that both of you are practised in navigation and driving the snowmobile for the next day. This is a straight forward task, but if you get lost or in difficulty then you’ll find flares in each of the snowmobiles. Set one off and help will be there quickly. _Don’t_ drive over the frozen lakes, stick to the terrain, it’s clearly marked. We have medical equipment and-“ he giggles nervously “-you’re obviously all doctors, but avoid that at all costs.”

He stares at all of us, expectant. I’m not sure what he thinks we’re about to do, cheer? We stare back and I resist the urge to point out that Carla’s a nurse rather than a doctor.

“Oh dear! You do not like our game. Oh dear. What a shame! What a shame! What a shame! Shall I show you to your steeds, Sacred Heart?” Thing One beams at us, turns on her colorful heel and walks out, clearly expecting us to follow. I glance at Blondie.

“A big Seuss fan?”

“Only since she got those boots. She can read a room better than Darren though…”

There are five snowmobiles parked outside in the snow, more fat flakes swirling around in the dusk air. In defence of how godawful this could have been, they do actually look they’ll be pretty badass to drive. Blondie scrambles ahead to stand next to Thing One, who appears to be dancing by herself in the twirling snowflakes.

For a diminutive passive-aggressive depressive he’s surprisingly loud and commanding as he runs through the instructions of how to drive the snowmobiles. It seems pretty straight forward, although Newbie looks like he wants to take notes. I shove him into the back of our’s and then clamber into the driving seat.

“Which way, Ginger?” I yell back to him over the roar of the engine as I turn it on. I’m quite pleased with that one, actually, a girls’ name and a navigator.

“Southwest,” he bellows back and I kick the thing into action, feeling him grab my waist as the snowmobile jerks forward. I carefully steer around Thing One, who’s pirouetting in the ice, Blondie dragging her away from the snowmobiles if they’re getting too close.

Okay, so I’ll admit it; driving this thing is _fun_. It’s not hugely fast, but the feel of it ploughing through the snow, the power of it, is exhilarating. Newbie’s feeling it too, crowing happily in the back. I smirk as corner sharply, resulting in him throwing the arm not wrapped around my waist into the air and yelling “scream if you wanna go _faster_!”.

I glance around and notice that none of the other snowmobiles are with us and stop zigzagging around for Newbie’s amusement. He quietens down in response and gives me a quizzical look.

“You sure we’re going the right way, Newb? None of the Brady Bunch are with us.”

“Yeah, I’m guessing the caches are in different places. Keep going due south, looks like we’ll be there pretty quick.”

He’s right. After a depressingly short time he yelps into my ear that we should be nearly on top of the cache. I reluctantly park the snowmobile up. It was just the thrill of the movement, the power, nothing about Newbie being pressed up against my back and feeling his breath against my cheek. It was just some unexpected and not wholly unwelcome warmth.

Kid smells like peppermint.

Newbie is pacing in the snow, spinning around like Thing One in her hazy dance and frowning at the GPS device, until he comes to a tree. He peers into a hollow in the tree and then pulls a laminated paper out, grinning broadly.

“Hey, Doctor Cox, look!”

“Yeah, I can see, Newbie. Bring the damn thing over here.”

He bounds back over to me and I glance at what is clearly a map. “So… what, we need to study this to figure out what we’re doing tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I think so. Oh…” he looks disappointed. “Looks like we have to trek by foot until we get our cache tomorrow, which’ll give us directions to our snowmobile to get back. We have to walk quite a way, by the looks of it…”

“Makes sense, Newb, they can’t just have a whole weekend of us racing snowmobiles, it’d be a fortune in gas.”

“I guess…” he suddenly beams at me. “But fair’s fair, it’s my turn to drive it back.”

“Alright, Newb, run me through how to use this thing.”

I act dumb throughout Newbie trying to explain (badly) how to use the GPS so that I can shrug and tell him he’ll need to help every so often.

It’s entirely so I don’t have to do something so nerdy. Nothing to do with it meaning I can wrap both arms around him to show him the GPS as he steers, hooking my chin over his shoulder and enjoying the reassuring warmth and solidity of his back pressed against my stomach and chest. Or his hair brushing against my forehead as he crows happily at being in control of the snowmobile, his joy almost smoking out of him like our mingled breath in the crystalline frozen air.

Nothing to do with that at all.

\- - - - -

The rainbow-haired girl is looking at Doctor Cox with some concern. “Should someone take him to bed?”

She’s holding the bottle of Johnnie Walker black in one hand and a shot glass in the other, clearly unsure whether she should follow the slurred instruction she just got to “pour me another shot, Thing One, or I’ll start calling you Thing Two. Or your name, whatever the hell that is”.

I mean, it was more “p’r me ‘nother sh’t, th’ng’un, or ‘ll star’ callin’ ya th’ng’tuh. Or y’r n’m, wharever t’h’ll th’t ih.” But I got it, I’m not sure she did. Doctor Cox is looking at her unsteadily, frowning.

“I’m sure he won’t actually call you by your name, it’s never happened with me so far,” I reassure her. I realized earlier that I don’t actually know what her name is and it feels a bit too late to ask now without seeming impolite. She seems genuinely delighted to be called Thing One though, so I’m sticking with that or rainbow-haired girl.

“What _is_ your name, Thing One? And why are you on the run?”

Again, that’s a translation from a load of missing vowels and consonants. The girl seems to react to it though, glancing at me. “Maybe you should get him to his cabin now. He doesn’t want a hangover for tomorrow, not in this cold, it makes you feel like your brain is liquidizing. I’ll make you an appletini on the house if you do.”

She can actually make a mean appletini. If I hadn’t recently developed a terminal mistrust of other people – and she wasn’t a slightly deranged possible criminal with odd taste in footwear – then I might fall hard. I just give her a grin and drag Doctor Cox away from the bar.

“C’mon, you’ve just been cut off.”

“Damn Thing One,” he mutters in response, but follows me docilely. I think he’s not too bad – not like I’ve seen him before – but we’ll have to get up early tomorrow and he’s probably borderline on Having a Bad Time tomorrow if he doesn’t stop now. Thinking of…

“How much scotch is in your luggage?”

He smirks at me. “Not too much.”

“Don’t drink it, okay? You want to win this thing tomorrow, right? Not just puke on a snowmobile.”

He shrugs. “I’d puke down your back, that might be pretty funny.”

“Yeah, hilarious. It’d be warm, I guess. Just… don’t drink anything else. Please?” I glance at him, trying not to let the concern show on my face. “I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to be.”

He stops suddenly, which makes me abruptly realize that the only reason I was able to drag him along in my wake was that he was letting me. There’s no snow falling any more, the night air frigid and still, the snow crisp and hard underfoot. He’s staring up at the sky, his neck bent so far back it looks almost unnatural, the bright lights of the night sky visible in a way we’d never see with the busyness of civilisation around us.

“Look at it, JD.”

I follow his gaze and stare at the myriad of stars, spiralling above us. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah,” he sounds strained and I look over at him to see him looking at me with a strange expression on his face. He seems to pull himself together after a moment and look back up at the stars. I frown, unsure why he did that. Drunk, probably.

“Jordan and I are done, Newb.”

“Yeah. I heard she left-“

“No, Newb. We’re _done_. Her leaving is standard, but… I can’t do it any more. I can’t do this shit, repeating the same mistakes over. Lying to myself, pretending, putting up this… fantasy. I just can’t. We’re done. I’ll tell her. Whenever I see her next. I’ll tell her…”

He’s not slurring any more. He sounds clear and… and sad. I grasp his forearm gently. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, still staring up at the stars. “Probably for the best, right? Better to be honest than live in such a farce.”

I smile weakly. “I don’t think I’d mind a farce. Sometimes. It’s better than being alone, right?”

He pulls his gaze down from the heavens to stare at me furiously. “ _No_ , Newbie. It’s not. That’s what I’m saying. And you deserve better than that bitch.”

I flinch slightly, surprised by the intensity of what he’s saying and… and, actually, the language he’s using. He’s disparaging of everyone, but I’ve never heard him call a woman that before. Apart from maybe Jordan and usually jokingly.

“Sorry. Joke. Not a great one either, sorry.”

He grudgingly looks away and sighs. “It’s alright, Newb. None of my business anyway.”

I can’t think of much to say to that and start to gently tug at his arm. This causes him to follow me over the snow again and I grip his wrist as I keep walking, talking back over my shoulder.

“I know it’s none of my business either, but… I _am_ sorry. And you put up a wall so much that nobody feels they can even offer you help, you know that right?”

He grunts. “That’s intentional, Delilah.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Anyway, you’re prattling at me about it. Like you do.”

“Yeah, like I do,” I reply cheerfully. “You can’t stop me doing that.”

“Yeah, Newb, I know…”

We’ve arrived at cabin one and I look back at him. He’s staring at me in a weird way and I frown at him.

“What?”

“You’re standing in starlight, Newbie.”

“… So are you?”

He shrugs. “It suits you.”

What? I blink at him. “Do you have your room key?”

“Oh… yeah,” he digs around in his pocket and produces it, dangling it in front of my face.

“Yeah, well done. Use it please, there’s an appletini with my name on it back at the rec.”

“Oh, so _you_ get to drink.”

“Yeah, since I’ve not been downing neat scotch all evening. Please don’t drink anything more, alright? Apart from water?”

He gives me a sulky look as he unlocks the cabin. “Fine. Don’t get drunk and screw Thing One, she’ll quote Seuss throughout.”

I give him a disgusted look. “Yeah, because I’m so up for that right now. Don’t be ridiculous, do you really think meaningless sex is even remotely appealing to me after what happened? I’m going to have the Appletini, look at the damn map again and go to bed so I can meet you here at six in the morning like you commanded.”

I see regret flicker over his face. “Shit… sorry Newb. I didn’t mean that.”

I sigh. “It’s fine. I know it was a joke. Don’t worry about it.” He really is insufferable when he’s drunk. Even though he doesn’t actually seem that drunk right now, just weird.

He’s standing with the door ajar and looking at me with a really strange expression on his face, warmth and light spilling out into the cold and dark we’re standing in. I stare back at him, confused.

“I am sorry, JD. I mean it. I didn’t mean to say that, I was just being an ass.”

There’s such a weird, intense look on his face. I honestly don’t know how I’m supposed to react and look back at him awkwardly. He apparently feels the need to continue with:

“Just… you know, you’re standing there looking like that and-“

Oh good, he’s about to insult me again. I huff softly to myself. “Yeah, what, looking like a girl? Like the Frozen prom queen? Like… like the abominable snowman’s bride? Please, Doctor Cox, just go to bed, alright? We need to be up early.”

“Yeah. Will do Newb.”

He’s retreating into the cabin, a sad, closed expression on his face, and I suddenly think of something I can do now that I’d normally not even try.

“Hey, Doctor Cox?”

He pauses and looks over at me carefully. “Yeah?”

“Thanks. Y’know, on the plane? That really helped, you holding my hand.”

I’m expecting a furious retort that he’d never do something that girly and am I out of my tiny _mind_ , Sarah? But he just smiles tiredly.

“My pleasure, JD. Good night.”

As the door closes I could kick myself that I didn’t ask him to admit he was my mentor. Looks like he might actually be drunk enough to do it.

\- - - - -

“Stay on the path,” Newbie tells me, glancing down at the map clutched in his gloved hands. I lift my eyebrows at him.

“Do you want to win this thing or not, Shelley?”

The hangover wasn’t too bad. I wasn’t actually that drunk, just unfortunately had enough to drop my defences _weh-heh-hey_ more than I ever should do. Newbie’s utterly obtuse though, so I think I’m relatively safe on that. He appeared at my cabin at 05:59 clutching coffee, donuts and the map, an enormous beam on his face. It fell off after we figured out just how long we’d have to be hiking before we got to the cache that would direct us to our goddamn snowmobile.

“You don’t speed up by going off the path. There’s lakes around here and the ice is pretty thick, but not worth risking for… whatever we get if we win. What _do_ we get if we win?”

I shrug. “The warm, contented sensation of beating everyone else and knowing we’re better than them?”

“Don’t you think that anyway?”

“Nothing like having it proved though, Bianca. Anyway, you said it yourself, the ice is pretty thick.”

“Yeah, the ice is thick, but that doesn’t mean it can hold much weight.” He glances at me briefly. “Particularly the sort of weight you’d put on it.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You calling me fat, Barbara?”

He rolls his eyes and shoves the map into his coat pocket, pulling his hat down further on his head. “I’m calling you heavy. Too heavy to go sliding around on a frozen lake.”

“Just because I’m not a scrawny little bastard like you doesn’t mean I’m _heavy_.”

“Sure. Whatever. Just listen to me on this, yeah? Ohio gets pretty damn cold, I know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen people fall through the ice before, it’s really not something I ever want to see again.”

“Fair enough.”

“Particularly if they’re too fat for me to drag them back out.”

I glare at him.

\- - - - -

“How much further?”

I sigh. “You want to look at the map?”

“No, just how much further is it Newbie?”

“I dunno, I’m pretty sure the scale’s out.” I pause in trudging through the snow and pull the map back out of my pocket. My toes are starting to throb with the cold, an unwelcome reminder of my childhood. Snowball fights were always great, but then you’d stop and suddenly realize you were freezing cold, soaking wet and have to run home with your damp clothing chafing against you as you did so. My Mom always used to have a hot bath ready to warm me up.

A brief, unbidden thought pushes into my mind, wondering if my son will have that, wondering what kids in California do instead of snowball fights and hot baths and toasted ‘smores…

“You going to read the damn map Newbie or just stare at it like it contains the cure for cancer?”

He snatches it out of my hands, dragging me out of that particular obsessive worry.

“Why’re we going east? We need to go north.”

I point at the area on the map directly north of us. “Lake. Remember? Hypothermia? Cold icy death? Not worth it just for you to get your warm fuzzies that you’re better than all of us.”

He makes an impatient noise. “This is ridiculous Newbie. I bet Barbie and Ken are skipping across frozen lakes all over the damn place.”

“Not likely. Elliot’d never break the rules, she’d have a breakdown if she had to stop off the path.”

“Yeah, right. And you’re such a rebel, right?”

“Just because I don’t trash labs and insult everyone doesn’t mean I’m a complete stickler for the rules. Just I generally obey the ones that are there to stop me from dying.”

He’s fallen behind me, apparently distracted by something. He’s probably seen a snow rabbit or something and is about to make an unflattering comparison between us. That I’m equally terrified of everything around me and unable to make any sort of decision under pressure. He probably thinks he’s a fox or something. Or a polar bear. Do they have polar bears in Alaska?

I’m dragged out of my idle daydream of myself with long ears and a fluffy tail by something hard and cold slamming into my back, making me yelp and stagger a pace forwards. I glare back at him, watching him brush the snow off his gloved hands from the snowball and grin like a naughty kid.

“One plus point here, Newbie. There’s ammunition all over the place to throw at you if I feel like it.”

“Don’t you just do the verbal equivalent of that anyway? Stings just about as much usually.”

He smirks at me and bounds across the snow to catch up, snatching the map back off me and studying it for a moment. I frown at him.

“It’s a kind of stupid thing to start a snowball fight with me. It’s how I spent winters as a kid, I’m a pretty good shot.”

“Yeah right, Newbie. I’ve seen you try to throw a basketball, you nearly concussed yourself. I’m not exactly quakin’ in my boots here that you’re going to somehow mysteriously be able to _not_ throw like a girl just because the projectile is snow-based. You’re not a character from Frozen y’know.”

He strides forward, clearly expecting me to trail dejectedly after him. He’s going in the right direction at least and not heading back towards the frozen lake. I watch him for a moment and then grin.

The snowball I launch at him catches him squarely in the back of his head. I give him an innocent look as he frowns back at me, brushing the snow out of his curls that are escaping from the beanie.

“I told you I had good aim.”

\- - - - -

After another twenty minutes of trudging through the snow I’m starting to get pissed. It’s unexpectedly tiring having to lift your feet so high and the cold’s starting to get to me. I’m not used to it and it’s making me sincerely regret getting my chest waxed last week. I could have done with the insulation.

It doesn’t help that Newbie is clearly a lot more at home in the cold than I am. Not only is his stupid hat clearly working better at keeping him warm (after the little bastard got ice in my hair), he’s lighter and so able to occasionally get across some of the snow drifts without sinking into them. Also, my attempts at retaliation for the snowball are not going well, with him showing an unerring ability to not only throw with total accuracy but to be able to hit the same spot repeatedly. The back of my head is aching slightly.

I growl softly under my breath, noticing it smoking out in front of me. The sunlight is weakly filtering down through the trees around us, somehow still painfully bright when in glances off the snow. I glance back at Newbie, who’s trailed behind me to walk through the snow tracks I’m making and so give himself a break. Sneaky little bastard.

“C’mon Newb, it’s getting colder. If we cut across the edge of the lake then we’ll get to the damn GPS coordinates so much quicker and you can be back at the lodge drinking hot chocolate and me drinking scotch within the hour.”

He frowns. “Like I said, we should-“

Screw it. I turn right sharply, stalking out over the lake, ignoring the worried yelp he makes behind me. The ice is completely firm, the thick dusting of snow over it crunching as I walk across it. God, he’s such a neurotic little bastard, I should have ignored him from the beginning. The whole damn lake has probably completely frozen over, it’s totally safe.

“Come back!”

“It’s _fine_ , Newbie,” I snap back over my shoulder at him. “You’re so goddamn nervous that-“

Exactly what I was about to insult him with is lost as there’s suddenly a horrendous, booming noise. I freeze in place and stare back at Newbie’s horrified expression, his eyes wide and shocked as I hear my pulse start hammering in my ears.

“What the hell was that?”

“It’s the ice!” He sounds panicked, holding both his hands up, palms towards me. “Don’t move!”

Like I needed telling. There’s an ominous grinding noise from next to me and I flinch. Newbie’s edging towards me slightly, lingering near the shore of the lake, apparently torn between staying on the safety of the land and wanting to help me.

“Okay… okay… it’s fine…”

“Yeah, you sound like it’s fine Newbie.”

“Look, just shut up for once and listen to me.” His voice is suddenly sharp and business-like and I feel a spike of pride through the numbing terror. He’s snapped into the mindset he uses at work when he’s diagnosing a patient or responding to a code. And dammit, the kid’s _good_ when he’s like this. It’s reassuring.

“Lie down. On your stomach. And spread your arms and legs to distribute the weight more evenly.”

I really _do not_ want to lie down on the ice. I’m already freezing and I’m terrified that the movement will make the ice crack more. I carefully do as he tells me, furiously pushing down the fear that the ice will collapse under me, that I’ll go face-first into icy water, trying not to think about how it would feel, the shock of the cold water filling my lungs, the intensity of it…

“Right, good, that’s good.” To my shock I’m pulled out of the obsessive worrying and am hanging onto his voice. He sounds like he knows what he’s doing, he sounds… reassured. God, how desperate am I right now that this is comforting?

“You’re going great.” Oh _God_ , this is clearly dire, this is actually encouraging. “What I need you to do now is bring your arms up over your head and bring them together, right? Then roll towards me.”

I slowly move my arms up over my head and clasp my hands together. I’m shivering and I’ve no idea if it’s the cold or the fear. I try to roll, but am horribly immobilized.

“It’s okay, really, it’s okay, you’re going to be fine. Just roll towards me, towards my voice, keeping your arms and legs straight. I know it’s scary, but if you’re careful it’ll be fine, honestly.”

I want to snap at him that it’s not _scary_ , I’m not _scared_ , I’m not a _girl_. But I don’t because I am scared and his gentle, soothing tone feels so goddamn important right now. I close my eyes, take a breath and roll myself, pushing gently with my toes to get the leverage.

“Good, that’s _great_ , just keep doing that.”

My eyes are still screwed shut and I crack them open to glance towards him. He’s crouched down at the edge of the lake, clearly slightly out onto the ice, watching me intently, pale but determined. More concerning is the lump of snow between us that I’m pretty sure I’m going to get stuck on as I roll towards him. He’s clearly seen it too.

“Right, I think… I think that’s a tree stump or something. Just keep rolling over, I’ll come out to meet you.”

“Don’t be a moron,” I grind out, speaking for the first time in a while, my voice tight. “You’ll fall through.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

I grit my teeth and resist the urge to snarl at him. “Don’t you dare, Newbie.”

“Look, logically if that’s a tree stump then there’s land around it. It’s fine.”

His voice is closer and when I next roll onto my side I can see him carefully picking his way across the ice, sliding his feet carefully along the surface without lifting them to distribute his weight. I roll into the snow drift and discover it’s just a snow drift, although still enough to stop me from being able to roll any more. I hold up a hand to try to stop him advancing any more towards me.

“Look, I’ll just stand up now and-“

“No, the ice is already weak, you need to keep your weight evenly distributed.”

I hear him sliding towards me and keep my hand extended towards him to try to stop him, my eyes screwed closed. He ignores it and my cold hand is suddenly grasped by his and I’m surprised by the warmth and force of his grip. I look up into calm blue eyes and he smiles at me.

“See, it’s fine? I’m just going to give you a shove and then you should be able to get back onto the land.”

He grips my hand and leans back, using his body weight to drag me across the drift and then I’m suddenly sliding past him. He makes a triumphant crow, which dies on his lips as another crack shudders through the ice. I hit another drift – this one with branches, so definitely a tree stump – and sit up, staring over at him, his eyes wide in his pale face as he freezes in place, apparently starting to follow the advice he gave to me earlier.

There’s another almighty crack and then he’s suddenly vanished, just a ragged hole in the ice and horrendously dark water lapping at the broken edges where my Newbie had been standing a second ago.

\- - - - -

God, it’s _cold_. No, not even cold, it’s so cold it’s physically painful. It feels like my body’s being hit by millions of tiny frozen needles, stabbing into me, scraping across all my nerve endings. I try to force my eyes open and that hurts more. Unthinking, I inhale to scream and suddenly the pain is _inside_ me, ripping into my lungs, my heart, my mind. I flail, panic clouding through me as I kick back towards to surface, trying to squint my eyes open enough to see light, work out which way is up and which is down.

I hit something hard above me and scrabble at the thick frozen platform, trying to smash through it, if it was so goddamn weak to break from the other side then it should break from this side, right? I choke, trying desperately not to breathe more of the deadly cold water into my lungs.

I kick hard, trying to stop the dragging sensation of the swirling freezing water, stop it from pulling me down, even as it seems to be seeping into my brain, into my mind, into my body. I press my hands against the ice and start to trace my way along, trying to find the shattered edges of the ice where I fell through to drag myself out.

But it’s dark and scary and so _so_ cold.

\- - - - -

“JD!”

I scream it, exhaling a cloud of warm mist and pure terror. There’s no response, just the water slopping around, pooling out over the layer of ice where he fell.

No. No no _no no no no no_.

I hurl myself forward, ignoring the danger, ignoring that the little bastard just got me off this damn ice and fell through because of me. That to go back onto it makes his sacrifice – _no, not a sacrifice, not at all_ – pointless. I scrabble desperately across on my knees and elbows, trying to distribute my weight as best as possible, hearing more ominous cracking and ignoring it.

I plunge my arms into the freezing water, flinching at the cold that makes my arms feel immediately weak and in agony. I grasp at nothing, trying to find him, hoping against hope that I’ll find a hand, an arm, a foot, anything. Instead there’s nothing, just the void of icy water, too cold even for the fish.

I keep one arm in, ignoring the chill, the horrible pain and use the other to start brushing the snow off the surrounding ice, trying to see through, trying to see if he’s trapped beneath me, a weird mirror image of me lying on the top of the ice, him pressed up against it underneath like some hellish inverted painting, the broken, narcistic man in the bright sunlight and the air, the young, idealistic one trapped beneath in the suffocating dark. I see nothing, no blue eyes, no dark hair, no stupid hat, nothing.

“JD!” I yell again, hoping somehow that my using his actual name for once will somehow give him supernatural abilities to get back to me. My hand flails at nothing in the unforgiving water. I close my eyes, the sheer horror of the situation suddenly overwhelming me, that he could be – could be –

Fingers brush against my palm and I grunt and throw my other arm in to grab at him, ignoring the ice groaning at me in warning. I get a handful of the material of his coat, seizing it and grasping his hand hard. There’s a very gentle response from him, but it’s a twitch rather than a squeeze. He’s been in the water… what a minute? More?

I try to drag him out of the water, but the ice apparently gives up the ghost at this point and cracks loudly, the section I’m on jerking heavily as I try to pull him out. I pause, trying to figure out what to do. His hand stills in mine.

No. No, I’m not letting this happen Newbie, not have you die in the cold and dark holding my hand, not have this memory override all the good ones of you, not have your sad cold grasp burned into my palm forever. Not only have memories of this and overlaying my hand on your’s as the airplane took off and your arms around me on the snowmobile as the last time I had any physical contact with you alive.

I grit my teeth and drag him suddenly up and out, scrabbling desperately backwards as I do so, clutching the freezing, sodden body against me as around me the ice collapses into the water.

We crash into the shoreline trees, the ice cracking right up to my boots as I pedal backwards. I wait for the inevitable, for the ice underneath me to crack and both of us to plunge through together. The cracking happens, but I’m not dragged under. I let out a breath and sigh, realizing we’re both finally back on the land.

The relief is short lived when I realize Newbie isn’t breathing.

He’s pale, so pale and cold, his lips already going slightly blue. I roll him onto his back and drop my cheek down to his mouth. No, nothing, not breathing.

I grasp his mouth and press a couple rescue breaths into his lungs, watching his chest rise, knowing my technique’s good, dammit, I’ve got no excuse for my technique _not_ to be good. I pause.

CPR isn’t always necessary on drowning victims, sometimes the heart hasn’t stopped, just the breathing. Or the heart failure is secondary and can restart without the chest compressions.

Clearly not in this case. I growl and overlink my hands, pressing the heel of my palm to his sternum and starting to sharply press down in a steady rhythm, counting. At 24 I hear a crack and flinch, initially thinking it’s the ice and then realizing it’s more likely one of his ribs. At 30 I pull off and press another lungful of air into him. I inhale, about to deliver a second rescue breath and-

And, God, the best noise in the damn world, Newbie suddenly making a retching choking noise underneath me and then jerking over onto his side to wetly hack out pints of slimy lake water. I close my eyes briefly, a hand on his shoulder, biting my lip to keep the emotion inside, to stop myself from shaking and going to pieces.

Man up, Perry. Kid needs you. Otherwise he may as well still be in the water, along with his stupid hat.

Dammit, I’ll buy him another ridiculous hat.

He takes a shuddering breath and then promptly starts to shiver.

“Newbie? Newbie, you with me?”

He coughs again, then weakly says: “Told you not to do that…”

\- - - - -

I try to sit up and flinch. My clothing’s completely drenched and freezing, already starting to stiffen and crisp in the cold air. I can feel it chafing against my skin already where I’m shivering, everything feeling rough and sensitive and sore. My chest hurts, my lungs hurt, even my face is throbbing from the cold water.

My ribs hurt too. I’m pretty sure Doctor Cox just did CPR on me and he’s always ridiculously forceful when he does that, so I’ve probably got at least a couple broken ribs.

“Stay still Newbie.”

“Cold.” I grind out, clamping my teeth together to try to stop them chattering.

He’s trying to tug my coat off and I whimper at him. “No, I need to keep them on or I’ll get hypothermia-“

“Newb, you just fell into freezing water. You’ve probably already got it, at least mildly.” He’s pulling his jacket off, shivering as he does so. He wraps it around me and then staggers upright. I sink into his jacket, trying desperately to absorb the body heat lingering in the material. God, that feels good.

He’s pulling me upright and I stagger, my legs refusing to work. My heartbeat’s hammering in my ears and the shuddering shivers running through me makes it hard to stand. My breath feels hot and painful as I pant rapidly. My lungs hurt.

“C’mon, Newbie, we need to get you somewhere warm as soon as possible. Stand up.”

“’m tryin’.”

He grips me around the waist. “Where’s the map?”

“Wasin m’coat pocket.”

I grit my teeth and shudder again. He keeps one arm wrapped around me and gets me to hold the drenched coat so he can get at the pockets. It’s hard to use my hands, my fingers feeling stiff and sore. Twisting them to hold onto my coat makes them feel horribly like they’re going to snap somehow. Doctor Cox produces the map and I drop the coat into the snow, trying to snuggle back against him to get some warmth. I shiver violently and flinch as the material of my pants chafes against my legs.

“Good thing the damn thing’s laminated. Anyway, there’s a cabin just north of here, we should be able to get there pretty soon. Was your cell in your coat?”

“Yeah.” I close my eyes and then strip my gloves off, trying to warm my hands up, dropping them into the snow.

“Newbie, don’t do that.”

“Cold.”

“You’ll get colder if you do that. Your cell must be dead after that soaking and mine’s got no reception. Shit. Shitty wilderness cellphone signal bastard wasteland.”

He sounds worried. He tries to drag us forwards and my feet don’t want to work, stumbling and dragging in the snow. I press my forehead against his shoulder, feeling him shivering against me. That makes no sense, right? He feels _so warm_ , how can he be cold?

“JD, come on, try to walk.”

“Tryin’.”

My knees buckle and I feel him catch me, then I’m somehow floating, my face pressed against the material of his shirt. I try to grip onto him as much as possible.

I wonder who he was talking to earlier. I’m Newbie, right?

\- - - - -

I’m worried.

I’m really really goddamn worried.

The relief of getting Newbie out of the water and breathing again was short-lived. He was able to speak and was showing symptoms of mild hypothermia, which was only to be expected. But he started to go downhill soon afterwards, slurring, being unable to walk or move properly and he was confused. Worse, he took his gloves off. That might just be because it was uncomfortable for him, but if that’s paradoxical undressing then that’s not a good sign at all. Paradoxical undressing kills, hypothermia victims for some reason stripping themselves off and curling up somewhere to die. Weird shit and so _nahwt_ happening to him.

Also, I only did manual CPR, not defibrillation, so on top of all of that shit he could easily go back into cardiac arrest. So I dragged him into a fireman’s lift and am moving across the snow as quickly as I possibly can, trudging determinedly towards where the cabin is marked on the map. He’s still shivering – focus on that, that’s good, if he stops then that’s bad – and seems to be muttering to himself.

“… why’zere m’rshm’llows? How’mi floatin’?”

Great, yeah, he’s still confused. And apparently thinks the snow is marshmallow, sounds about right for him.

“… y’smell nice…”

“Thanks Newb.”

Oh, thank God, I can see the cabin. I jerk him slightly on my shoulder. “We’re nearly there, JD.”

“… who’s JD?”

Shit. That’s not good. I ignore that, focusing on the cabin, each step taking us closer to the warmth. I’m cold, so God knows how he’s feeling. I can feel the icy water trickling down me where he’s pressed against me, gooseflesh springing up wherever he’s touching me. I need to get him out of these clothes, need to get him warm and dry and not draped over me with likely fractured ribs. And I need to get him to a hospital, although God knows how. Hopefully the cabin has some sort of landline. I can see ominous gray clouds on the horizon, which doesn’t bode well.

I get to the cabin and ram my knee against the door. It doesn’t budge and I growl softly, lowering Newbie down to lean against the cabin wall. He shivers and opens his eyes, looking at me in confusion, arms wrapped around himself as he tries to stay upright. This doesn’t seem to work for him, as he slowly slides down the wall into a sitting position.

“Whu’?”

“Just got to figure out how to get into this damn cabin.” I spot a lock box on the wall. “Newb, do you remember them giving us any codes?”

He blinks and looks blankly up at me. “Codes?”

“On the joining instructions pack, you always read through shit like that. Was there anything about emergency codes?”

“9…1…1…”

He closes his eyes again and I frown at him. “Don’t go to sleep, Newbie.”

I try 911, which doesn’t work. Dammit. I should have fallen through the goddamn ice, JD would have remembered the code if I was all hypothermic and useless like he is now. He’d not have been able to get me across the snow from the lake though, so I guess each to their own strengths. He’s pretty ingenious when his brain’s actually functional, he may have been able to make a sled and pull me like a husky wearing too much hair product or something.

Screw it.

The door gives way the third time I ram my shoulder against it, the solid wood finally yielding.

That hurt, but ignore that, I’m pretty numb from the cold and panicked as well. But apparently Lucifer and/or Kelso haven’t gotten here first, since there’s a bed in here, thank Christ. I grab Newbie, dragging him inside. He makes a relieved noise to himself as I pull him out of the cold, then sighs as I start to strip him off.

I always torment Newbie about how pale he is, but he looks goddamn tan usually compared to how he looks now, the skin of his chest tinged with blue. There’s already a spreading bruise over his sternum. He’s being oddly complacent in my stripping of him, standing docilely as I drag his pants down over his hips, stepping out of them as they fall to a sodden heap at his feet.

For some reason I’m being all weird about stripping off his underwear. Usually I’d not even consider it, it’s just part of what you do when you treat someone. But for some reason I’m bothered about his modesty. I roughly shove him into the bed and pull the quilt up over him, watching him clutch at the patchwork coverlet and snuggle down automatically into the bed into a shivering ball.

“Take your boxers off, Newbie.”

He wriggles and then kicks them off and out from underneath the bed sheets.

“Keep talking to me, Newbie.”

“Wha’ about?” He asks, his teeth chattering loudly.

“Anything, that’s not something you usually have a problem with. I want to try to find if there’s a landline or anything here, I need to get you to a hospital.”

“I jus’ fell inna water.”

I lift my eyebrows at him and he hunkers down further in the bed. “S’alright.”

“No it’s not, Newbie. I had to perform fucking CPR on you, you’re not alright. Keep talking.”

“Oh, thass why m’chest hurts. You don’ need t’punch the patient, y’know…”

I start to stalk around the little cabin, trying to find anything I can use to get a message out. A cellphone, a computer, a fucking fire to send smoke signals. I can’t see anything. The little cabin is clearly designed as some sort of snow shelter, a single room with a small bed, a fireplace, a rug, an armchair and a little stove in the corner. A quick investigation shows a small cupboard with a toilet and sink in, but no bath or anything else I could use to warm him up. Fuck. And no phone. Fuck fuck. And he’s stopped talking, fuck fuck fuck.

“Newbie?”

I pull my head out from the tiny ‘bathroom’ to see he’s started dozing and hurry over, shaking him awake. He grunts at me. “Tired…”

“I know, Newb, but you can’t sleep, mmkay?”

He makes an unhappy noise in response and rolls his eyes up exhaustedly to gaze at me. “Tired.”

“I know, Newbie. Look, you like diagnostics and treatment, right?”

He nods and I continue: “So, you’ve been brought a patient who fell into a frozen lake. They’re exhibiting shivering, increased respiratory rate, pale skin, confusion, slurred speech and a lack of coordination. What’s your initial triage and diagnosis?”

He blinks and seems to focus slightly more. “Hypothermia. Moderate.”

“Yeah? And how would you treat that?”

“Get th’patient warm ‘n’ dry. Monitor in case the hypothermia slidin’ into severe. Focus on rewarmin’.”

He’s still sounding slurred, his words tripping into each other. I try to encourage him to keep talking:

“How would you rewarm the patient?”

“… Gettem dry ‘n’ warm. Use external heatin’ devices… ‘lectric blanket, that kinda thing. Extracorporeal rewarmin’…”

“How, Newbie?”

“Dunno, ECMO.”

“Define ECMO, Newbie.”

“Extracorporeal membrane oxygenation.”

“How does it work?”

“Temporarily draws blood fr’m body to allow… art’f’cial oxygenation ‘n’ remove carbon dioxide… ‘n’ heart ‘n’ lung machine to externally warm blood ‘n’ air goin’ through the body…”

Whilst he’s been talking I’ve found some dry wood and kindling and gotten a small fire started in the grate, filling the small kettle from the stove and setting it to heat. I’m hunting through a cupboard and let out a fierce “hah!” of triumph when I find some flares.

“Huh? Whazzi wrong?”

I show him the flare. He looks at it blankly. “Whazzat?”

“A flare, Newbie. I can send it up and those morons can come get you to a hospital.”

“How?”

“What?” I look at him confused. He flails slightly, pointing at the window.

“There’sa storm.”

“Fuck.” He’s right. The ominous clouds have apparently stolen over the sky whilst I’ve been smashing the door of the little cabin in and trying to warm him up. I put the flare to one side so I can launch it as soon as the storm clears. There’s little plashing noises of the heavy snow flakes hitting the window and I wedge the broken door shut with the armchair to stop any cold air coming in. The little wooden walls and cheerful Scandinavian style blanket and bed are making the place seem cosy and warm, if you ignore the horrendous situation we’re currently in. The kettle starts to whistle and I move over and hunt around, finding some old teabags and making two mugs of pretty disgusting tea, but at least it’s warm.

“D’ct’r Cox?”

“Yeah, Newb?”

“Patient’s stopped shiverin’.”

I look back at him, where he appears confused and lost and – now he’s pointed it out – clearly not shivering.

Shit.

\- - - - -

Despite forcing the slightly revolting tea into Newbie and trying to warm him up through roughly rubbing his limbs through the bedspread (kinetic energy = heat, right?), he’s continued to deteriorate. His pupils are dilated and his breathing and blood pressure have both dropped. I’m also pretty sure he’s been hallucinating, staring in horror at unseen things every so often and occasionally insisting to me that he needs to stop breathing because the panic reaction in cold water makes the victim gasp, which drowns them quicker. My gently pointing out that he’s not in the water any more doesn’t seem to make any impact.

I need to get him help _now_. This shit can happen, the core body temperature continuing to decrease even if you get the patient into the warmth. He needs to be in a goddamn ICU, not in some shitty cabin with me.

He’s lying on his side, apparently apologizing to his invisible son that he’s dying and won’t be able to be a good father. I’m trying not to listen. It _hurts_ , I don’t want to hear this.

There’s only one thing I can think of doing. I mechanically strip down to my underwear and get into the bed with him, wrapping my arms around him to try to share my body heat. He jumps and rolls over to stare at me in confusion.

“Th’s ‘s def’nately not happenin’.”

“Damn right,” I growl at him. He nods, apparently satisfied by this.

“C’n y’look after him, please?”

“Who?” I feign ignorance.

“Sammy.”

“No, Newbie, you’re going to look after him.”

“If ‘m not here…”

“You’ll be there, Newbie, I promise.”

He wriggles against me, pressing up against my chest. He feels unpleasantly cool, apparently still not rewarmed. I feel a spike of hope at this; if he’s still warming up the hypothermia sliding into severe might not be too bad, he could just have not started to warm up properly yet.

“’m scared.”

He says it quietly against my clavicle, cold lips moving against my skin.

“You’re going to be fine, Newbie.”

“I mean… ‘bout Sammy. I dunno how to be a dad…”

I tighten my grasp on him. “Nobody does, Newb. You learn on the job, there’s no residency for this shit. You’ll get it.”

“W’ll you help?”

I blink and then softly stroke his hair, dislodging some frozen water as I do so. “Sure, Newb.”

I could claim that I wouldn’t deny him this in the state he’s in, but it’s not that. Of course I’ll help if he wants me to. It’s what we do, right?

He shivers against me and I feel another spike of hope, but this seems to die down again. “I don’ feel so good…”

“I know, Newbie. I’m trying to warm you up.”

“Thanks…”

I roll him gently onto his back and lie against his side. His eyes shutter closed and I think about what he was saying about ECMO. It’s a sensible solution if we were in a hospital, externally warming blood and air to raise the core temperature. Obviously there’s nothing I can do about the blood, but… well, I’ve just essentially done the air thing when I was doing CPR, right?

Our lungs are actually ridiculously impractical. Exhaled breath still has a large amount of oxygen in and… well, it’d be warm, right?

“Hey, Newb?”

“Yeah?”

His eyes are still closed, occasional shivers crawling across his skin, but not shivering enough to reassure me he’s out of danger yet.

“I wanna try something. Just… just don’t get too excited and think your prince has finally arrived, yeah? This is strictly medical.”

Before I can chicken out I tilt his head back to open his airways and press my lips to his, exhaling a couple rescue breaths and then pausing for him to breathe naturally for a few moments before resuming. It’s quite tiring, actually, so after a few minutes I figure I’ve probably been breathing warm air into him for about 50% of them time.

I think he’s passed out, but there’s a noticeable improvement, less obvious cyanosis to his lips and his skin looking pinker. More importantly, he’s started shivering again and his skin is _finally_ starting to feel warmer against me. He shifts weakly against me, then snuggles back up against my chest.

I feel a spike of relief as he wriggles against me, flexing his fingers and shivering hard again. I rest my chin against the top of his head and close my eyes.

“Atta girl.”

\- - - - -

My memories of the last few hours make no sense. I remember falling through the ice, I remember the horrible, terrifying sensation of being trapped underwater in the freezing dark, struggling not to inhale more water, crawling against the ice and outstretching my hands to try to find the break in the solid platform trapping me and darkness overwhelming me just as I felt another hand against my own. Waking up to a screaming pain in my chest and my body furiously hacking and forcefully pushing the water back out of my lungs. Trying to walk through the snow, the cold and pain and raw ache… then… confusion. Snow becoming marshmallow fluff, me drifting along in sugar clouds, a bed somehow growing out of wood as Doctor Cox keeps asking me for the emergency number, some weird flashback to Sacred Heart, walking down an icy cold blue corridor as Doctor Cox keeps demanding answers to medical questions and waving fireworks in front of my face. Horrifying creatures lurking in corners as I curl, cold and vulnerable and naked in a bed, staring at monsters with broken faces and rolling eyes. My son, still a baby and yet able to talk, demanding why I left him alone, why I abandoned him, why I’m such a disappointment. And… and Doctor Cox, the feel of his skin against mine, his _lips_ on mine, soothing warmth flooding through me and chasing away the nightmares. Breathing life into me.

I force my eyes open and am met with an expanse of tan skin. I blink.

I’m warm. I’m… I’m actually cosy, snuggled up against something wonderfully warm, God, will I ever actually feel too hot ever again in my life? A soft patchwork quilt is wrapped around me, my legs tangled with long, strong limbs. There’s a smoky, homely smell – a fire, I realize – and panelled wooden walls. There’s an arm wrapped around me.

I glance up from staring at his chest. I’m not surprised he’s here exactly – after all, my weird smashed up recollections of the last few hours strongly suggest he’s been here, although I’m not sure I trust what I remember since we’ve apparently been on various different planes of reality if it was accurate. I’m just surprised that… well, that he’s here and holding me and wrapped around me and apparently asleep.

I glance out the window. It’s dark outside, snow continuing to splatter softly against the glass. Everything feels quiet and muffled. The fire’s burning low in the grate, throwing shadowy figures against the wall, writhing and dancing in the half light.

I look up at him again. I know I was hallucinating, but was I hallucinating _all_ of that?

He shifts, frowns in his sleep and then opens his eyes, blinking down at me. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You feeling better?”

I nod and then bite my lip. He frowns more, a V appearing between his brows. “What is it?”

“I… I remember you… uh, _breathing_ into me. Did… did you do that?”

“You were crashing Newbie. I thought it’d help and it seemed to get your core temperature to finally stabilize. You pissed I didn’t get your consent first or something?”

“No… no, I just don’t know what’s real right now. I presume there wasn’t a demon in the corner of the cabin?”

“Not unless Kelso or my ex wife were visiting, no.”

I roll onto my back and gaze up at him. “I… I think my core temperature needs stabilizing again.”

\- - - - -

I stare at him. “What?”

He looks back, blinking innocently at me. “My core temperature. I think it’s dropping again.”

“No it’s not, Newbie. You’re warm, you’re _so much_ better than you were before.”

Little hypochondriac. What, he’s scared he’s going to somehow recontract hypothermia?

“I mean, I’m not shivering any more.”

“Yeah, because you’re at the right temperature now, you idiot.”

He fake shivers – it’s pretty damn obvious, he’s shimmying more than shivering – and gives me a sad look. I frown at him, confused.

“What the hell, Newbie?”

“I’m… I need… oh, fuck it.”

He’s suddenly hurled himself at me, wrapped his arms around my neck and pressed his lips against mine and he’s…. he’s _kissing_ me.

Oh. Oh, he was being cutesy.

And I’m kissing him right back, prizing his arms away from my neck to pin him down roughly on the bed, rolling on top of him and pressing down against him hard, feeling him arch his body up against me. I growl at the back of my throat and thrust hard against him, my hands trailing down over his chest and stomach, glorying in him being here, being alive, being a horny little bastard. His tongue presses against my lips and I open my mouth, allowing him access, enjoying him furiously, angrily Frenching me.

I pull back, panting, staring down at him. “What’s this, Newbie? Are you horny from cheating death or something?”

He looks back at me, oddly guileless. “No… no, not that.”

“Then what?”

“Just it seemed stupid to pretend any more. After what happened.”

“Pretend what?”

He looks embarrassed. “That… that we’re… that there’s nothing _more_. Between us? Y’know?”

I do know, actually. And the little bastard is so much braver than me for even saying that, no matter how much he currently looks like he’s about ten seconds away from actually pissing himself in fear from admitting that.

Which kind of makes it even braver, in a way.

Which is why I reward him in the only way I can think of; by gently kissing him in response and then reaching down to his hard cock and starting to jerk him off. He lets out a muffled yelp into my mouth which I swallow down and then grin at him.

“I figure this’ll warm you up, right Newbie?”

“Oh God, yes.”

He’s thrusting against my fist, hips coiling, the thick smooth flesh of his cock throbbing against my hand as I roughly jerk him off. I press a knee against his thigh to push his legs further apart and drop my other hand down to tenderly caress his balls, cupping the vulnerable soft flesh as he twitches and groans against me.

There’s a sudden thump against the door, making us both jump. Newbie moans gutturally and I pause, my stupid sex-addled mind not connecting to why some sasquatch is trying to break into the cabin.

“Oh no, don’t stop, ignore them, they’ll go away.”

I nearly nod stupidly in reply, then finally gather my senses. You _moron_ , you utter moron, he still needs to go to a fucking hospital and you’re potentially ignoring help just because you want to jerk him off? Also, you’ve been treating him, he’s sort of a patient and now you’re trying to have sex with him? He’s probably not even sure who you are, he was hallucinating a few hours ago. Fuck’s sake, Perry, what is _wrong_ with you?

I abruptly drag myself out of the bed, pulling on my discarded clothes, Newbie staring after me in sad, baffled (horny) confusion.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m getting the door, you idiot. You need medical help, dammit, you aren’t well Newbie.”

“But-“

“Shut up,” I snap at him, furious at myself. I look back at the door and yell: “Hang on, I’m coming, we need help in here.”

Once I’m finally dressed I drag the armchair out of the way of the door and am greeted with a genuinely new experience. I’m pleased to see Gandhi.

\- - - - -

“Vanilla Bear, _Jesus_ , we were so worried about you.”

Turk completely ignores Doctor Cox on the threshold and charges into the cabin. I wriggle, trying to will my raging erection to settle down (look, it’s _Turk,_ you don’t have any strong feelings towards Turk, Mr Peeps). God, I’m confused. I’m not the best at making logical decisions when I’m turned on and this probably isn’t helped by the whole hypothermia thing, but what just happened? A second ago I was about five minutes (three if he had a good wrist technique) from a happy ending and now I’m feeling cold and sad and a bit cheated.

“Io’s called the medivac helicopter and… and, shit, we need something to signal it and-“

Doctor Cox has produced the flares again and then quietly tells Turk that he’ll send them now the storm’s died down, leaving the room. I watch him go, the sense of crushing disappointment only getting worse.

“What happened, dude? The treasure hunt ended _hours_ ago and to begin with we were all in the rec room and joked that Cox had murdered you, but then the later it got…”

“I fell in the lake.”

Turk looks at me in horror. “You fell in the _lake_?”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously? Oh man, VB, we need to get you medical treatment _now_ , you could have hypothermia.”

There’s a sudden harsh noise from outside. A second later I see a flash of red that must mean it was Doctor Cox setting off the flare. I pull my gaze away from the window and look tiredly back at Turk. “I _did_ have hypothermia, CB. But I think it’s okay, Doctor Cox was looking after me.”

Turk snorts and I’m suddenly, horribly angry. “ _What_?”

“Well, just he doesn’t exactly look after you normally and-“

“Turk, this was _medical_. When have you ever known him to not be completely in control and on top of things when it’s medical?” I have a sudden flashback on his lips pressed hard against mine, his solid muscular body literally on top of me, which I choke down quickly, feeling my face heating up as I blush. “Of course he looked after me.”

It wasn’t medical, oh God, it really wasn’t, it was so much _more_.

I have a sudden, chill realization of his behavior recently. His hand on mine on the plane. His choosing me. His arms around me on the snowmobile. His weird behavior, the odd way he was looking at me when I walked him back to his cabin.

I suddenly realize what Greg’s assumption had been about who Doctor Cox was married to.

And apparently it only took me nearly dying to realize it. Oh God, I’m such a _moron._

I think I’ve been staring at the wall in shock for too long because Doctor Cox ( _“Why do you call him Doctor Cox? That seems pretty formal.” “Because if I call him Perry he tries to murder me.” “That’s not weird at all.”_ Oh _God_ ) has come back into the cabin and Turk’s glaring at him.

“What?”

“Why is JD naked?”

“Er. Because his clothes were soaked through, Gandhi, and the thing about hypothermia is that it really goshdarn loves a cold, wet pair of briefs. Don’t sweat it though, your princess took her boxers off herself, nobody violated her precious flower.”

Oh God, even _Turk_ noticed and Turk is utterly useless at this kind of thing. I’ve been so preoccupied with the whole Sammy thing I didn’t even see… oh _God_.

I’m starting to shake, the whole reality of this thing coming crashing down on me. And… and I think I knew. I think, under all the denial and bullshit, I _knew_ and… and…

“Right, and your clothes all stayed on, right?”

Doctor Cox seems to flush angrily for a second. “He was hypothermic, Gandhi. So, yeah, sure, I did what I had to to keep him alive. You could be more damn grateful.”

And I wanted it?

“Grateful? You’ve been weird around him and I know I haven’t been the best friend recently, but he’s got such a damn thing about you being his mentor that-“

I’m shivering again. It’s almost violent, my teeth clashing together sharply and it hurts. Blackness is crawling up against my eyes, trying to drag me down into nothingness, into darkness, into silence. I feel it clawing against my skull, determined to take me.

“Shut up, Gandhi. Stop talking about something that you – Newbie? Newbie, shit, Newbie? Kid, please, don’t do this.”

Hands on me. Warmth. Cold. Dark.

“JD? Vanilla Bear, come on, stop it, keep breathing and – dude, what are you doing?”

Warmth flooding through me, his lips against mine, exhaling into me, breathing him in, confusion, pain, darkness, light, him, me, us.

“Dammit Gandhi, is that chopper here?”

Lips on mine again, my hands twitch uselessly as I try to reach for him, to reassure him, to drive the pain and fear out of his voice.

“Oh fuck. Yeah. It’s ready, I’ve spoken with them. We need to get him into it _now_.”

Warmth. Yes. Keep doing that. I don’t need a chopper, just this, just this, keep doing this.

The quilt’s wrapped around me and there’s strong arms holding me, but the blast of cold air still nearly knocks me out. Lets the darkness take me. But he’s holding onto me and I can’t just surrender to it. Not when he’s holding me, not like this.

Not when Sammy needs a Dad.

Not when he promised me that I’d be that Dad.

I push it away as best I can. Struggle to stay in the light. Struggle to stay with him.

He needs me.

Sammy and him. They both need me.

\- - - - -

I stare at Newbie fixedly. At his chest rising and falling with each warm pulse of air from the oxygen mask. Stare at him, like if I stop then he might cease that rhythmic movement of his lungs.

Gandhi seems to be doing the same thing. He glances at me briefly.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“S’fine,” I grunt back.

They’ve kept the Scandinavian quilt wrapped around him. It makes him look weirdly small and fragile, but it looks warm.

I can’t believe he nearly crashed out. I’m such an asshole. I got distracted. I’m a goddamn medical doctor and I got distracted. No excuse. Absolutely none.

“No. Really, man. I don’t know what’s going on-“ I give Gandhi an angry look, which he apparently deflects completely and continues – “but you clearly were trying to keep him safe. Whatever else, you were trying to help.”

“Well, _obviously_.” I snap. Then there’s a horrible well of emotion surging through my throat and I look back at him, trying to swallow down the guilt. “It was my fault.”

“What?”

“I went out on the ice. Not JD. He knows better than that but I… I… my goddamn ego. I wanted to win. And when it started to break up he got me back to shore, but… but… but he… he fell through…”

I have a horrible, vivid recall of the deep, dark waters, lapping at the edge of the jagged ice and shudder. I already know that image is going to haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.

“Why did you want to win?”

I look across at Gandhi, trying to choke down the emotion and shock, ignoring the upwards jerk as the helicopter rotates and zips across the swirling air. “What?”

“Why did you want to win?”

I consider lying and then sigh. “To show him.”

“To show him what?”

I shrug. “Dunno. Just to show him.”

When Gandhi next speaks his voice is surprisingly calm and thoughtful. “You need to talk to him.”

“I know.”

“No… dude… you _really_ need to talk to him. Look, I’m not telling tales out of school here to say JD hangs on everything you say-“

I groan and then look up to see – to my horror – that Gandhi’s looking at me sympathetically. “That’s part of the problem, isn’t it?”

I shake my head, not wanting to engage.

“You’re worried that’s the _only_ way he sees you.”

“Gandhi, I don’t want a sorority sisters heart to heart here and-“

“Shut up, Cox. Listen to me.”

I shut up and listen.

“Look, I’m not talking out of turn. JD _does_ hang on what you say. Yeah, dude, he respects you and all that, but he respects most of the senior doctors. Believe me, it’s _so_ not just that. If JD was in any sort of decent state of mind right now he’d have noticed your _incredibly_ not-subtle hints. But he’s had a lot going on and so he’s been even more obtuse than usual.”

He has been shockingly dense recently, Gandhi isn’t wrong on that.

“So you need to talk to him. And by talk I mean be really honest. Like… blunt. Y’know, like you can be? If you give him the slightest wriggle-room to misunderstand then he _will_ absolutely misunderstand you. So just say it like it is.”

I stare at Newbie, wrapped in the blanket, listen to the reassuring bleep of the heart monitor as it and the warm oxygen keep him stable.

“Sure. Thanks… thanks Gandhi.”

“No problem, man. Just doing what I think will make my boy happy.” There’s a pause, Gandhi apparently thinking about something. “Uh. Doctor Cox?”

“Yeah?”

“You can tell me to mind my own business and all, but… why _did_ your wife leave you?”

I flinch. Seriously, was it that obvious? “Well, Gandhi… I told her I was in love with someone else. Even though I hadn’t acted on it and didn’t plan to, I thought she should know.”

“You mean she didn’t already?”

I smile humorlessly. “Oh, she knew. She just didn’t know _I_ knew.”

There’s another pause. “You did the right thing, man.”

“I know.”

“I hope it works out for you.”

“Me too, Gandhi.”

\- - - - -

Newbie looks pale and lifeless, lying in the hospital bed. As a precaution, he’s been hooked up to an ECMO machine – an actual one this time, not just me breathing into him – but the attending physician thought he was out of danger from severe hypothermia. Him crashing out in the cabin was assessed as likely a combination of milder hypothermia and him going into shock; terrifying, but not as life-threatening as it had seemed.

He looks cold. I know the ECMO is externally warming the blood and air in his body, but the sheet looks thin. They’ve wrapped him in a space blanket as well, but he’s only wearing one of those skimpy hospital gowns underneath and… and he looks cold. It’s bothering me.

He’s been here nine hours and hasn’t woken up yet. I know he’s fine, but that’s worrying me.

Lots of things are worrying me right now. I’m supposed to catch a flight back in a few hours. Part of me is desperate to leave before he can wake up and remember everything. The other part wants to make sure he’s okay.

There’s a clatter at the door, followed by an “ _ooph_ ” and the sound of something sizeable being dropped to the ground. “This is _heavy_. And sounds suspiciously like it’s full of glass containers.”

“It’d be easier if you weren’t wearing those boots,” I point out to her. She shrugs.

“Sorry you didn’t get to finish the treasure hunt. Particularly since it meant I had to get your booze-filled luggage to you.”

“For all you know that could be full of perfume.” I drag it away from her and twist the dials around to unlock the case. Thing One gazes over at Newbie in the bed.

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah, he’s just recovering. No permanent harm done.”

“He looks pale.”

“He always looks like that.”

I unzip the case and start digging around inside it for what I need. I feel her crane over to look at what I’m doing.

“I knew it was scotch.”

“Yes, alright Detective Pikachu.”

“I feel like you think these names are somehow offensive to me, rather than delightful.”

I finally find what I was looking for and drag it out. Thing One looks at it dubiously.

“Will that make a difference? He’s already hooked up to all that stuff.”

It’ll make a difference to me. I carefully wrap the electric blanket around Newbie’s sleeping form, watching his eyelashes flutter as I do so. My heart’s in my throat that he’s about to open those big blue eyes, but then he settles back down, one of his hands clasping the edge of the blanket. I plug it in, swallowing down the disappointment and look at back at Thing One. She’s staring at me and apparently doesn’t even have the social niceties to pretend otherwise.

“What?”

“Blondie’s got a theory about you and him.”

“Oh. How _fascinating_. Why are you calling him Blondie now?”

“I don’t think you know his name.”

“I don’t know your’s either. Should you be in a city, won’t the law be more likely to track you down here?”

She beams at me. “But I like to be here. Oh, I like it a lot! You’re trying to change the subject.”

“You know, I really _cannahwt_ tell whether you’re actually insane or just think you’re being adorably kooky. You’re not, by the way, you’re just annoying.”

“He thinks you want to fuck him.” She points at Newbie and I flinch. “I don’t think that though.”

“Oh, really? What does your crazy excuse for a mind think?”

“I think it’s more than that. Pretty sure if you only wanted to have sex with him then you’d already have done it.”

I glare at her. “Well, isn’t it fortunate that who I want to fuck or more than fuck is none of your goddamn business?”

She smiles back at me serenely. “I guess so.”

“And where’s the damn airport pick up your camp said they’d get for me to partially apologize for this disaster of a weekend?”

“You’re looking at it.”

“Oh good Lord, no.”

“And you _should_ be glad I’m still wearing these boots. They help me reach the pedals.”

Oh shit, I’m going to die. At least I won’t have to face Newbie again, I guess.

\- - - - -

I _still_ don’t feel warm.

I was discharged from the hospital in Anchorage a week ago and I still feel… chilly. Not cold, but I never feel quite warm enough. It’s not pleasant.

Carla and Turk stayed in Alaska until I was discharged and then we flew back together. They keep coming to the apartment to check I haven’t gone hypothermic again or anything. It’s kinda annoying.

I’m also ‘recuperating’, so I can’t distract myself with work. Kelso insisted on my having two weeks off, full pay, I suspect because he thinks I’ll sue him or something. So I sit in my lonely apartment and obsess over… over…

I mean, it makes a change from worrying about being a terrible Father, I guess. I’ve seen Sammy a couple times, tried to bond with him. He mainly drools on me. Then pukes.

_He_ hasn’t tried to contact me. Hasn’t checked on me. Hasn’t done anything.

What am I supposed to do? Should I try to talk to him? Will he just call me a girl’s name and tell me to stop reading chick lit? Was that brief spell of honesty and him being real with me just… just location based? Like a holiday romance? Can he only be like that in the presence of large volumes of snow?

Was he just kissing me back because he was relieved I wasn’t dead? Does he hate me now?

I sigh and shake my head, glancing over at the electric blanket on my sofa. I’ve been spending most of my evenings curled up under it, sightlessly watching endless sitcoms on repeat.

I don’t even feel warm doing that.

There’s a knock at the door and I sigh again. Oh great. My daily visit from Turk or Carla (or sometimes both and the baby to boot) to check I’m not dead.

I stagger up from the couch and flinch, my legs still feeling stiff. My joints hurt. The less said about my horrendously bruised sternum and broken ribs the better.

The knock sounds again, more loudly this time, apparently panicked that I’ve gone blue and into shock again. I frown at the door.

“Give me a minute, some psychopath broke my ribs, my movement’s a bit restricted and - oh.”

The aforementioned psychopath is standing, leaning his forearm against the doorframe and not looking overly pleased at my description of him. He gives me a twisted grin.

“Well, I’m sorry there, Newbie. I thought you’d prefer to have bruised ribs and be _alive_ , but maybe that was an error on my part.”

“Uh. Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

He frowns. “Clearly. Are you going to – oh, good Lord Therese, what are you wearing?”

I glance down at my sweater and blush. Turk gave it to me last year in celebration of ‘ugly sweater day’ and it’s the only warm clothing I have left, I’ve used up all the other stuff.

“Well… you know, had hypothermia, still feeling a bit cold…”

“It’s genuinely _hideous_ , Agnes. I think I’m actually slightly fascinated by it.”

He seems to be wearing a navy T shirt under a black jacket and dark jeans. He looks cool. I look like a knitted Christmas decoration. That someone vomited on.

_That T shirt is really very tight_ , Mr Peeps comments in appreciation. I ignore him and the physical reaction the outline of his pecs is creating.

“Are you going to invite me in, Naomi, or just stare in fascination at my admittedly impressive body?”

Oh shit, he noticed. I blush even harder and shuffle back to grant him access. He gives me a slightly disgusted look in response and then stalks inside. I follow him awkwardly, somehow feeling like a stranger in my own home and lower myself onto the couch, flinching as I do so. He apparently notices this as well.

“Still sore?”

“Yeah, I’ve got three broken ribs as well as… it’s weird, it’s like a constant ache from the cold in my joints. I think I know how the elderly feel now.”

He’s standing in the center of the room and looking uneasy. I initially think it’s because he caused the broken ribs (I mean, he kinda caused all of it by going onto the damn ice when I told him not to), but then he pulls his gaze away from mine to address his feet.

“Look, Newbie, I’m sorry.”

Oh. Oh, he’s doing _this_. Part of me’s morbidly curious as to what he’ll say;

_I’m sorry Newbie, I called you a girl so often I briefly actually believed it and now I’m disgusted that I even touched you_.

_I’m sorry Newbie, but my brief relief that you weren’t dead got all mixed up in my admiration for your hair and now I just wish you were actually dead._

_I’m sorry Newbie, I did it for a dare and now I owe the Janitor my Porsche. Deny everything._

“What for?” I ask heavily, already trying to emotionally brace myself and also staring at his feet. He has nice boots.

Also, kinda big feet. I wonder if that means – no, stop that.

“For… for, oh jeez kid, you know what for. I took advantage of you.”

My gaze snaps up to him. _“What?!”_

He looks back at me, apparently surprised by this reaction. He briefly looks confused and then angry. “You were sick, Newbie. You didn’t know what was happening and I…” he drags a hand through his hair. “I was _treating_ you. God, it’s just totally unacceptable.”

Oh. _Oh_. He’s been avoiding me because… because he’s disgusted by himself, not me? He’s ashamed?

I carefully get up from the couch and approach him as he continues ranting to himself, still staring at his feet. “What kind of goddamn doctor does that? A fucking disgrace, that’s what kind. Taking sexual advantage of someone who’s half-delirious, who’s ill, who doesn’t fully know what’s going on, who’s-“

“Doctor Cox,” I interrupt softly when I’m inches away from him. He stops his rant and then slowly lifts guilt-ridden eyes to look at me.

“Yeah?”

“I think my core temperature needs stabilizing again.”

He blinks and then frowns at me. “Newbie, you can’t keep using that line to-“

I kiss him.

\- - - - -

Little bastard. The little rat bastard, using that goddamn phrase again, it damn well had an immediate physical reaction and I was _trying_ to do the decent thing. Damn it. Damn it all.

I catch his hair and cup his jaw with my other hand, kissing him back hard, pinning him in place, but not touching him anywhere else. I want to crush him to me, to ram him against the wall and kiss him breathless, but he’s still sore. He’s wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pressed himself gently against me.

I break the kiss, jerking my head up to try to force myself to stop. This just results in him starting to softly kiss along my jaw and I groan and inadvertently thrust my erection against his stomach. He mutters something into my neck about “oh, the boots _do_ match”. I frown.

“Newbie, what the hell are you doing?”

He nuzzles against my neck and then… oh, shit, that’s his tongue right?

“You weren’t taking advantage of me, I knew what was going on.”

“JD, that’s-“

He kisses me hard again and takes my hands, starting to pull me towards the bedroom. I follow reluctantly (okay, maybe not actually reluctantly, but I try and slow down a bit), but catch him as he tries to pull me down onto the bed with him.

“Newb, look, wait-“

“You want this too.” He’s – rather unexpectedly – just grabbed my erection through my pants and I hiss softly through my teeth as he strokes along the length of me. “Why wait?”

“Well, for one thing you’re trying to pull me on top of you, if you succeed I’ll land on your chest and then you’ll start crying. Which, surprisingly, isn’t a turn on for me.”

He pouts at me and continues stroking my cock. I shift uncomfortably. “Look, JD, I actually came here to try to talk about this with you, not… not to do this.”

“Then ask me to stop.”

Confident little rat bastard. Oh, damn it.

“You damn well know I don’t want you to stop,” I grind out at him. “But-“

He interrupts that by yanking my jeans open and sliding a hand under the material of my boxers before wrapping it around my erection. I moan as I feel myself throb in his hand, then give in, kissing him hard and pushing him back onto the bed and pouncing on him, careful to support my weight on my hands and knees as I pin him down and claim his mouth. He groans against me and I break the kiss to lean back and drag his sweater off. He’s got a thermal shirt on underneath and I frown slightly.

“Are you still feeling the cold that much?”

“Not right now,” he grins back at me. I roll my eyes, kneeling upright to shrug off my jacket and then pull my T shirt off over my head. He looks sufficiently awestruck by my chest and I whistle at him.

“Hey, Penny? My eyes are up here.”

“Uh, sorry…”

I roll my eyes and then stand up, pulling him up off the bed with me so I can pull the cover back, wrapping an arm around his waist and softly stroking the skin under his thermals. He shivers in response and I’m pretty sure it’s not from the cold. I kiss the top of his head in response and gently nuzzle his hair.

“Newbie?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever done this before?”

“I… I messed around a bit in college.”

I sit down and start to unlace my boots, glancing up at him. “What exactly does that mean? And stop standing around awkwardly, take your damn jeans off.”

He does as he’s told, pulling his socks off as he does so, before wriggling onto the bed and under the covers. I decide not to tell him off for leaving his shirt and underwear on, I’ll get rid of them in a minute.

“I’m cold.”

“Yeah, I get it. What do you mean about messing around?”

He gives me a suspicious glance as I kick my boots over into the corner of the room and drag my jeans the rest of the way off after he half got them off of me earlier.

“Are you going to make some gay joke or something?”

I get into the bed with him. “Newbie, I’m currently in bed with you and sporting – as I’m sure you can see, despite the boxers still being on – a pretty sizeable erection. I’m not in any position to make damn gay jokes, am I? But personally I’ve never had sex with another man, which is where I assume this is going and it seems sensible to ask whether you have, given the circumstances. Or will we both panic at the lack of vaginas?”

He snorts and then wriggles out of his top. I flinch at the heavy bruising still visible across his chest.

“Jesus, Newb, that looks sore.”

“Yeah, it is…” he squirms up against me and I slide an arm around the small of his back and look at him expectantly. He blushes.

“Oh, good Lord Newbie. You’re the one who was dragging it into the bedroom a second ago and being _mighty_ proactive, why are you going all bashful now?”

He looks at me helplessly and I sigh. “Alright, Chastity. You kissed other guys?”

He nods.

“You gave a hand job or two?”

He nods.

“You sucked off other guys?”

He blushes more and then nods.

“You were fucked by other guys?”

He shakes his head, then finally speaks. “I… I, er, I did… I did fuck a couple of guys. Only… only I assume that isn’t what you’re thinking now…?”

I lift an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question, Newbie?”

“Uh. Not really, I’m pretty sure I know what you’re thinking.”

“For the sake of clarity here, yes, I am assuming I am going to be fucking you.” God, even in this weirdly clinical way we’re discussing it, the idea of it is still hot. “We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, JD.”

“No… no, I do want to…”

I frown and then roll us over, lying on top of him, supporting my weight on my elbows to not put any pressure on his chest. “What’s up?”

He gives me baleful look. “Just… just, I don’t know where I stand. What is this to you? You were acting weird in Alaska and I thought that meant something, but then you didn’t stay when I was in the hospital and-“

I sigh. “Newbie, this is why I was trying to _talk_ to you about this shit. You’re the one who didn’t want to do that and just got all handsy.”

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t stay at the hospital because I felt like shit. You were there because of me and I felt terrible enough about the whole thing that I actually _apologised_ about it. You know I don’t do that kinda crap often. And I knew you were going to be fine. If there’d been any question around that then I’d have stayed.”

He smiles shyly. “You left the blanket.”

“Yeah, I did. I wanted you to be warm.”

I kiss his nose softly and he giggles. I lift my eyebrows at him.

“Do you know what’d make you warm?”

He giggles again, his smile widening. “Something hot and satisfying inside me?”

“That makes it sound like soup, Newbie. Not my cock up your ass.”

He manages to impossibly blush more and I smirk at him. “Such a prude, Cecily.”

I realize I haven’t answered his question about what this is to me and remember Gandhi telling me I should just tell Newbie clearly how I felt. I’m not really sure I’m ready for that. I’m not sure _he_ is, to be honest. I don’t really want to make a heartfelt confession when we’re both just in our underwear and horny. But… but I can start, right?

“Do you still mean it about not wanting to have meaningless sex, JD?”

He stops giggling and then nods.

“Yeah. Me too, Newb. You understand?”

He grins and then kisses me hard. God, he’s gorgeous.

“You’re so sexy,” he breathes against my lips.

“You too, JD.”

This compliment is apparently enough to get him back into ‘horny little bastard’ mode and he pushes me off him, scrambling on top of me and starting to kiss down my body. I groan at the feeling of his lips and tongue trailing down my neck to my chest and then into my happy trail. He doesn’t stop there.

_Oh God_. Oh God, if he’s not done this since college then I can’t wait until he’s less rusty, it’ll be goddamn mind blowing. He’s started by dragging my boxers down to my knees and licking up the length of me before running his lips and teeth along the head of my cock. I groan and thrust up against his mouth, which he rewards by briefly taking my head into his mouth and sucking hard. I whimper to myself quietly as he drops his head down, taking as much of me in as possible and using his hand on the base.

“Oh, oh fuck JD,” I growl at him, thrusting up in his mouth again. He chokes slightly and then carries on going, dipping his head, swirling his tongue around me, leaning back to suck hard on me before continuing his rhythm, fisting the base of my cock, his other hand reaching down to caress my balls.

Oh fuck, oh God. I thrust into his mouth again and feel a sudden pulse of pleasure, releasing a load of precum into his mouth. He chokes and pulls back, coughing, his eyes watering. I sit up, cock throbbing furiously.

“Get on your back. Now.”

He frowns, still coughing. “Is that the best position to-?”

“I don’t want to put any weight on you, so yeah. Where the hell are your condoms?”

“I’m hardly going to get pregnant and-“

I lift an eyebrow at him and he slumps onto his back with a sigh.

“You’re the one who was claiming this’d warm me up, surely that would be the best way? They’re in the top drawer.”

He points at his bedside table. I retrieve them and a bottle of ‘sensations’ lube.

“Does it really give a ‘tingle that out of this world’, Newbie?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve not used it on me.”

“Well, you’re about to find out.”

I’ve squeezed a generous helping onto my hand while I’ve been talking to him and abruptly drag his boxers off and wrap the lubed-up hand around his erection. He yelps and thrusts against me.

“Oh God, tingly.”

I smirk and look down at the thick, swollen flesh of his cock, remembering doing this to him in the cabin. He moans at the back of his throat and thrusts up against my fist, before flinching. Apparently that hurt.

I lie on my side next to him and kiss him gently as I continue to steadily move my hand on his erection. He makes a soft whining noise in response and trembles slightly, so I move back and feather kisses over his lips. He’s staring at me with dilated pupils, all eyes and messy hair.

Beautiful.

“You’re probably going to have to be relatively passive in this, Newb. Pretty sure most movement’s going to be painful for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” he sighs. “It’s not ideal as a first time, really…”

“We don’t have to-“

“I know,” he leans up to kiss me and then flinches again. “Just I want to. It’s taken… how many years to get here? Just… just don’t be mean about me being a starfish in bed or something, I’ll _rock_ your world when my ribs’ve healed a bit.”

“A starfish?”

“Yeah, you know?” He splays his arms and legs out flat on the bed in an emulation of a star jump. “Just lies there and doesn’t do anything. You never had one of them?”

“I think I’m about to.”

He rolls his eyes and I grin and kiss him. “Don’t worry about it. I know what I’m doing, even if you are a marine invertebrate.”

I’ve moved back to kneeling at the foot of the bed as I’ve been talking to him and take hold of the lube again. He gives me a confused look. “I thought you hadn’t done this before?”

“I haven’t done this with _a guy_ before, but there are some women who quite enjoy this, you know.” I shove his legs until he’s lifted them up, bending his knees.

“Oh,” he grumbles to himself. “I’ve not met any.”

“No comment,” I mutter, not hugely wanting to go there right now. He gives me a quizzical look and so I distract him.

He yelps and I start jerking him off again to try to relax his internal muscles that have just clamped down on me hard. Fuck, he’s tight.

“Oh,” he says softly.

“Try and relax, JD.”

“I’m _trying_ , just it’s quite a weird sensation.”

He’s not feeling quite so much like he’s about to shatter my proximal phalange, so I start to rhythmically thrust into him to try to loosen him up, my other fingers splayed against the soft, vulnerable skin around his ass and balls. He groans and rolls his head back.

“Does this feel good?”

“I… I don’t really know.”

“Oh.”

He shudders and I start to withdraw. He protests and flails his legs at me.

“No, I… just give me a minute.”

He squirms around and then tangles his hands in his hair, grimacing. I frown at him.

“That’s not exactly an encouraging look. Newbie.”

“Yeah, I know.” He glances at me and then sarcastically adds: “Sorry.”

“I said we didn’t have to-“

“Yeah yeah, I know, but the prospect of it and the actual thing are pretty different, if you get my drift? And – ah!”

Annoyed, I’ve thrust in harder than before and at a different angle. His response is to go wide eyed, twitch suddenly and look incredibly surprised.

“Oh… oh, do that again.”

“Jerk yourself off and I will.”

He blushes again, but obediently wraps his hand around his cock and starts to slide his fist over the remnants of the lubricant. I try to emulate the angle again and am rewarded by a groan, completely different from the previous one. Experimentally I add another finger and he lets out a higher pitched cry.

“ _Now_ does this feel good?”

“Oh God…”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

After about five minutes of my fucking him with my fingers he’s a panting mess, precome drooled all over his belly, letting out occasional wail and garbled moans of my name. He seems to be alternating between calling me ‘Doctor Cox’ and ‘Perry’, resulting in a weird mishmash when he’s feeling more overwhelmed; I’m pretty sure he just called me ‘Doctor Perry’, which was particularly bizarre.

I slide my fingers out and he makes a disappointed noise. “Just give me a sec Newbie.”

I rip open the rubber packet and hurriedly drag it down over my erection, which has been impatiently waiting, twitching each time JD makes an aroused noise. Which has basically been non-stop for the last minute or so.

I kneel between his spread legs and lift them up, positioning myself and then looking at his flushed face. I swallow nervously and then ask:

“You ready for this, JD?”

“Yeah…”

The first thrust is nearly painful as he clamps down on something bigger than he’s been used to and lets out a quiet cry. I grit my teeth and pause.

“You alright?”

“Of course I’m not, you’re hung like a fucking racehorse.”

Well. That’s a nice little confidence boost, if I say so myself.

“I do apologise, Newbie. Want me to stop?”

“No… no, I’m just trying to get used to it.”

“Start jerking yourself off again?”

He tries and I feel him relax slightly in response, sliding into him a bit more. He whines to himself.

“Seriously, Newbie, if it’s hurting this much let’s try again later, we don’t have to-“

“No, it’s not that,” he gives me an embarrassed glance. “It’s that damn tingly lube, it feels _really_ weird down there right now. Like someone’s shoved pop rocks up my butt.”

I burst out laughing and he joins in after a second. This, oddly, seems to make him relax more and I slide further into him, ending up with my balls pressed up against his buttocks. He stops laughing abruptly and says “oh” softly and stops jerking himself off.

“You alright?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“I think you’re right on my prostate. I… er, I didn’t want to… um, get too far ahead of you.”

“Is that Newbie code for saying you just nearly came?”

“ _Yes_ , alright? Bad enough I’m all starfishy, I don’t want to just orgasm as soon as you’re fully inside me.”

“Shame, that would have been pretty goddamn flattering.”

He glares at me. “Just _start_ , for God’s sake.”

I gingerly withdraw and then thrust back in, resulting in JD’s eyes rolling and me groaning softly, my grip on his legs tightening. I start to steadily thrust into him, trying to keep my movements gentle; he seems to be really enjoying this and I don’t want to throw him off by accidentally hurting his ribs. The guttural moans he starts to make in response go right to my cock, which is made worse after a few minutes when he evolves this into softly murmuring “ _yes yes yes_ ” in a quiet litany to himself.

I move his legs slightly to get him to wrap them around my waist before I grasp his hips and start to increase the pace, thrusting into him harder and faster. He makes a strangled noise in response, closing his eyes and arching his back, then wincing again.

“Use your hand, JD.”

“Oh God, this feels too good…”

“JD? C’mon, jerk yourself off for me.”

He opens his eyes and looks at me, dazed. “Are you close?”

Not really, although I suspect seeing him come all over himself might just nearly get me there. “You are and I want you to fucking enjoy yourself, alright? Jerk yourself off, show me how much good I’m making you feel.”

He groans again and then drops his hand down and starts to frantically move. The slippery, squelching noise of his hand on his erection sounds almost indecently sexy and I feel a spike of pleasure in response, thrusting harder than I planned and making him lose his grip for a second before starting up the pace again.

“Oh… oh… oh… oh God… oh yes, oh yeah, oh please keep moving like that, oh… oh God Perry…”

He’s trembling and twitching hard, so I keep up the more forceful pace and am rewarded a few moments later by his head falling back against the bed as he begins to spasm and jet streams of come over his belly and chest, letting out a quiet wail as he orgasms hard around me.

And I don’t last much longer, continuing to thrust into his shaking body for around a minute longer before I’m hit with one of the most intense orgasms of my life, grunting and trying not to whimper as I hold his hips tight and come hard.

I pant and slowly come back to my senses, realising that JD’s gently stroking my hands. I glance down at it.

“That’s a really weird thing to do.”

“I can’t reach anything else.”

I can feel him start to tense up again and so pull out. He flinches and mutters “ow” to himself and I lean over and stroke his hair out of his face.

“You alright?”

“I think so…”

“Give me a second.”

His bedroom has an en suite at least, so I go in and dispose of the condom before grabbing some toilet paper and going back into the bedroom. He’s eyeing up the semen splattered all up him and looks over at me. I smirk.

“So… you enjoyed that, Clarissa?”

“Demonstrably,” he mutters. “Give me the damn TP, this is really… sticky…”

I tear a wad off and wipe him off, absently pinning him down when he starts to protest that he can do it himself.

“If I didn’t have broken ribs then you wouldn’t have been able to do that so easily.”

“Sure Newb. Jesus, it’s like you’ve had a carton of milk spilled over you.”

He flails around at me and I stop pinning him down to briefly kiss him and then go flush the sodden toilet paper away. When I come back through to the bedroom and get back into bed he tries to snuggle up against me and then flinches again.

“Ribs?”

“Yeah.” He sprawls on his back and stares at the ceiling despondently. “This sucks.”

I sigh and then roll onto my side, cushioning my head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm and a leg over him, carefully avoiding his chest. I glance up into his shocked face.

“I’m not making a habit of this, Newbie, don’t get used to it.”

He grins at me and then kisses my hair. I press my nose against his clavicle and stroke him softly.

“For a broken-ribbed starfish you really weren’t bad, Newbie.”

“Oh.”

I roll my eyes and then lean up and kiss him. “Stop being so girly. Obviously you were damn good or I wouldn’t have fucking had a ridiculously intense orgasm that apparently liquified my brain. And I certainly wouldn’t be snuggled up with you right now. If that’s you off your game then you might kill me on it.”

“You were so good.”

He says it softly, sounding almost tearful. I lever myself up onto an elbow to see his face more clearly and realise I need to stop being an ass – well, being myself – for a minute and be as reassuring as an insensitive asshole like me can be. I think this was a bigger deal for him than he let on.

I stroke his face gently. “You alright? You seemed to not be enjoying it to begin with.”

He presses his cheek against my hand and then kisses my palm. “Yeah. It did hurt a bit to begin with, but… God, it felt amazing after a while. And I kinda ache now. But it’s a _good_ ache, you know? I’m going to be reminded of this every time I get a twinge over the next few days.”

“And that’s good?”

“Yeah.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m scared.”

“What of?”

He gives me a miserable look. “I’m going to mess this up, aren’t I? I’m going to mess this up because that’s what I _do_ and it’s what people do to me and then I’ll have lost you and I can’t deal with that. I _can’t_ , you’re too important. I think that’s why I ignored how you were being and… and everything, because it’s just-“

I kiss him to shut him up. “No. You’re not.”

“But I-“

“JD, you seem to be forgetting that I felt what it was like to think I’d lost you a couple weeks ago. And I’m _not_ going to feel that again, you hear me? So, no, I’m not going to do anything to mess this up. And I’m not going to let you do anything to mess it up. So we’re good.”

He stares at me. “What are you saying?”

Oh. Oh, dammit.

I roll my eyes. “Obviously I’m saying… that you mean a lot to me, alright? Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Are you saying that-“

“Newbie.”

“That you-“

“Newbie, don’t you dare.”

He quietens down for a minute as I furiously go back into our previous position of my head of his shoulder and glower at nothing. Then he gently kisses my hair.

“I love you too.”

“Good, Now go to sleep and stop being such a girl.”

\- - - - -

I’ve been dozing for a while, tangled up in his limbs. Apparently he couldn’t keep being in a mildly submissive positive for long and has shuffled around so that I’m still on my back and he’s on his side, but has pulled me up against his chest and hooked his chin over my shoulder. Figures, he can’t even relax in a non-alpha male way.

I suddenly realise something and open my eyes. “Hey. I’m warm.”

“I’d hope so. You have a hundred ninety pounds of pure rage lying next to you. And… you know. Touching you.”

“Snuggling.”

“I don’t snuggle, Newbie.”

He says this whilst tightening his grip on me slightly. “Sure,” I concede with a grin. “Anyway, I’ve not felt warm since the whole hypothermia thing.”

He’s quiet for a moment, apparently considering something. “We’re going on vacation.”

“Huh?”

“You and me. We’re having a beach vacation somewhere. The Caribbean or something. Somewhere hot. Where they have pink cocktails for you and where drinking in the day is acceptable for me.”

I decide not to point out that appletinis are green. I have been known to partake in a strawberry daiquiri every so often, after all.

“That’d be nice.”

I wonder if I should try to get him to admit he loves me again yet or whether that’ll tip him back into rage.

“Do you usually go on vacation so soon with people that you’ve fallen f-“

“Don’t push it.”

Ah. Murderousness. I’ll try again later.

\- - - - -

Newbie’s fallen back to sleep after his obvious attempt to get me to declare my feelings for him. Not happening right now, Newbsicle. Be happy with what you’ve got, which is _way_ more than I’d ever admit to anyone else this early on.

I’m pretty sure if he speaks to Gandhi about this – and let’s face it, he will if he hasn’t already been texting him excitedly when I briefly dozed off earlier – then Gandhi will tell him anyway. I mean, I’ll just say Gandhi’s lying and would I _seriously_ admit something so embarrassing to Bowling Ball Head?

I ignore the warm, pleasurable sensation in my stomach as I remember him telling me he loved me. Ugh. What’s wrong with me? Think about fucking him, think about how hard he came, think about _that_ sexy mess, not emotions. Ew.

Ignore that the reason it was so intense and so amazing _was_ all the emotions.

Ignore how good it felt afterwards to just hold him. To wrap myself up with my Newbie and be… content. For what feels like the first time in my life. Really, truly content.

I close my eyes and sigh happily, relaxing into the warm bed, with the frustrating, infuriating, gorgeous, adorable man next to me. I kiss his temple softly and smile.

I am _so_ glad I entered Internal Medicine in that damn competition.

**Author's Note:**

> The two workers at the camp are indeed Iolite and Greg from My Unorthodox Treatment. Or variants of them anyway. Their names are very briefly mentioned, although the running joke is that Iolite isn't named for most of the fic - Turk refers to Iolite calling the helicopter, if you missed it. This was mainly included because Greg and Io never interact in previous works and I genuinely think they'd be rather effective if insane partners in crime. I'm still having issues with that companion omega fic, although I finished both of their stories ages ago.
> 
> And yes, Perry is more obviously having issues with alcohol consumption because he realised he was in love with JD and told Jordan. He is - as ever - massively full of self denial and lying to himself at the beginning.
> 
> And JD got wet. Yet again. One day I'll write a story where he stays dry.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! It's cold, there's snow and JD's wearing an ugly sweater at the end, so I'm going with this being a sort of Christmassy story. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it and to all a happy new year. Let's hope this one is an improvement on the last.


End file.
